Fighting the Fire
by KC Polar Bear
Summary: It's been five years since the incident on Muranthias, and most of the Rangers thought they'd put it all behind them. But a shocking revelation from a member of the original team sets them on a race against time - and a shadowy government organization - to save one of their own from the grip of a powerful evil that threatens to destroy their entire team from the inside out.
1. Prologue

**Fighting The Fire**

Disclaimer: Power Rangers are owned by Saban. I only own the plot ideas and characters you don't already know. Also, in this particular chapter, the dream sequence is my (much grittier) version of a scene from _Turbo: A Power Rangers Movie_, and in case you haven't already guessed, no, I don't own that either.

A/N: For the purposes of this story, all events in PR canon have been bumped ten years into the future. Also, assume that the original team were juniors in high school (approximately 17-18 years old) when they got their powers. For example, the events depicted in the prologue would have occurred in 2007. Forever Red will take place later this year, a few months after this story concludes. Basically, when considering the history of the show, assume canon unless the story explicitly indicates otherwise, just bumped ahead ten years.

* * *

**Prologue**

_He had never really believed in hell, but if he'd ever had to approximate what that would feel like, it would have been this._

It always started with the fire.

Five years of sleepless nights, of painful mornings, of hiding his face from the concerned looks the others shot him when they thought he wasn't looking – the cycle that had come to define his life, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. It was all one massive, vicious circle, and the origin was always the same. The terror started with the nightmares, and the nightmares always started with the fire.

He'd become intimately familiar with how it began: he felt the heat rising up over his body, heard the roaring of the flames that wasn't quite loud enough to cover that horrifying crackle that always reminded him of evil laughter. He felt the beads of sweat that had begun to trace their way down his arms and the small of his back, only to be kicked off into oblivion by the futile thrashing of his legs; if he looked down, he could still see it, every detail coming through in such crystal clear focus it was like he was watching it in a movie: every streak of red or yellow in the unforgiving orange of the bubbling pool of lava that awaited beneath him like the jaws of a hungry shark, every bubble that swelled up and burst, sending droplets of molten rock flying up towards his unprotected skin.

After a while, other things started coming into focus, things that didn't seem as immediate as the fire but terrified him nonetheless. He felt her hair falling over his shoulder, felt the tensing of the muscles in her back as it flexed and thrashed against his own. He heard the sounds of the battle waging around them, the clanging and smacking of fists and feet connecting with metal and flesh; heard the voices some small part of the back of his mind recognized, shouting commands, crying out in pain, and one that simply called out their names, over and over again, the panic and desperation in it sending a chill down his spine. He felt the metal rings encircling his hands, the rope that wound its way around his chest and bound him in place, dangling from the ceiling of some kind of cave, moving ever so slowly downward into the maw of the lava pit beneath him.

As they got lower, he began to smell it, the heat from the pit starting to eat into the rubber of his diving shoes and the hairs on his exposed calves; he heard his own voice, calling out for help he doubted would ever come, and hers, spitting out the occasional defiant taunt to their captors between cries of pain that tore at his heart. He heard the mocking laughter of their captors as they watched the battle unfolding before them; his hands curled into fists as he writhed and kicked uselessly at his bonds, all his long years of martial arts training suddenly worth nothing to him.

Then they began to move faster, the lava rising up to meet them seeming to grow more excited as they descended toward it. His heart was pounding in his chest, threatening to leap from his ribcage like one of those chest-bursters from _Alien_ as the heat grew steadily more intense. He felt her body slamming against him harder now, as their struggling increased, and a powerful mix of emotions went through him for the woman bound to his back. He felt a surge of pride for her bravery, her stubborn refusal to give in that reminded him so much of their youth together; in that moment, he realized this was the closest he'd ever come to acknowledging the deep love he'd felt for her for as long as he could remember. This always triggered a burst of regret for never having acted on those feelings in all their years together, for never taking the chance to find out what she really felt about him. He felt an overwhelming wave of guilt for being unable to get her out of this, followed by anger at himself for failing to come up with a way out when she was counting on him.

As those feelings arose and then lessened, one remained behind, stronger than anything he could remember feeling: anger so deep, so furious, so powerful, that it consumed everything else, manifested as an almost physical presence in his mind. It filled every cell of his body, fueled his every thought, and colored his vision a deep shade of red – the color of blood. He felt her fingers interlace with his in one final gesture of comfort, and the anger grew even more intense. Soon he knew there would be nothing left in his body but this rage, this desire to find anyone who'd ever hurt either one of them and kill them, no, destroy them, tear them apart with his bare hands and relish in their screams of pain and pleas for mercy before finally ridding the world of their existence.

This anger, by far the most intense emotion of any kind he had ever felt, was still at its full power when he felt himself enter the lava, felt the searing heat of the bubbling liquid begin to consume him from the bottom up. He had never really believed in hell, but if he'd ever had to approximate what that would feel like, it would have been this. He felt each layer of skin being torn from his body, every inch of his flesh being slowly dissolved by the unimaginable heat of the pit. Soon, even the air he used to scream in pain began to burn the inside of his throat, blistering the inside of his mouth raw as the fire began to eat him from the inside out. When he finally lost feeling in his legs, he dared a look down and beheld the lower half of his body entirely stripped of flesh, the bones of his legs gleaming white against the red of the fire as the flames ravaged his groin; the soft tissue of his genitals and abdominal cavity boiled and sizzled like bacon on a skillet, the smell of his own burning skin invading his final tortured breaths. He actually felt it when his stomach popped like a balloon, the acid inside already starting to boil as it ate through his lungs and liver.

When her hand finally went limp in his, he allowed himself one or two choked sobs of rage, regret and agony for a life only just begun before the smoke finally, mercifully overcame him, and he realized he was feeling himself die as the flames greedily attacked his throat and face.

Suddenly the pain was gone; after a moment, he realized that he was standing on solid ground, his eyes closed. As he slowly came back to himself, he heard the voice call his name again; then he heard another voice, taunting the first one, ordering him to destroy it, giving rise to that anger that had defined him at the moment of death. As the second voice rang in his ears, he realized he was more than willing to obey its orders.

With that, Jason Lee Scott slowly turned around and opened his eyes, which glowed with the same dark shade of red that had colored his vision as he felt himself being burned alive. It was then, as he felt himself leaping from the ledge to attack the people around him – people he'd once called friends – that he would awaken with a scream of raw agony, panting, a cold sweat soaking the bed. His eyes would pop open as though hoping to forcibly expel the images from his mind, and as he sat there trying to calm himself down, to remember where – and who – he was, he would stare at himself in the mirror that faced his bed and see his eyes glowing in that same dark shade of red.

In those moments, all he could think of was the fire.


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **Power Rangers is property of Saban. I only own plot ideas and characters you don't already know.

A/N: Big thanks to everyone who's read and/or reviewed. Just a reminder again that this story follows Ranger canon unless explicitly stated otherwise, just pushed forward ten years. This chapter takes place in the future! Well...for us. Cue Twilight Zone music, and enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 1**

**Scott Residence  
****Angel Grove, California  
****July 10, 2012  
****1:30 AM**

"_Let's just say I have a whole lot of hands-on experience."_

Kimberly Scott was jarred out of a peaceful sleep by the sudden movement from the other side of the bed. She felt the sheet yanked roughly down her back, exposing her bare skin to the cool air of the room. Blinking rapidly, trying to adjust her eyes to the darkness, Kim slowly pushed herself up onto her elbows and glanced around the room, her initial panic and disorientation from being awakened so suddenly beginning to be replaced by a subtler, more deep-seated anxiety.

As her senses gradually began functioning again, Kim registered what sounded like a wheezing growl, like the sound of an injured animal backed into a corner. She furrowed her brow, trying to adjust her eyes to the darkness through sheer willpower, when something caught her gaze. The sight of the deep red glow in the mirror opposite the bed brought her fully awake in an instant.

Kim threw herself into a seated position, the last of the sheet landing in a crumpled pile around her legs. She twisted herself to the right and saw Jason sitting bolt upright, staring into the mirror, his eyes glowing a deep, bloody red. She realized with a chill that his breathing was the sound she had heard – a menacing grunting sound that verged on growling. She tentatively reached out her hand to find one of his, and felt it clenched in a tight fist next to his knee.

"Oh God, not again," she whispered. Kim kicked her feet free of the sheet and straddled Jason's lap, putting both hands on his cheeks and bringing her face so close to his that their noses almost touched. Feeling his hot breath on her face, she steeled herself and spoke softly to him, trying to keep her voice as steady as she could.

"Jason?" she started stroking his cheek with one hand while the other kept a firm but gentle grip on his head, maintaining their eye contact. "Jase, baby, I need you to look at me." She waited until his eyes flicked back and looked directly into hers, the glow nearly blinding her at this proximity. "Jason, listen to me," she whispered gently, continuing to stroke his face. "Whatever you saw, whatever you're feeling, it's over. You're home, you're safe, you're with me. You need to remember all the work we've done to make this world safer; all the good we did together." Jason's eyes began to search her face, and she felt the tension in his arms begin to relax against her legs. "What you saw, the things you were doing, that is _not you_," Kim continued, more forcefully now. "You are the most controlled, focused, loyal person I've ever met, and you have been training for years to convince yourself that none of this is your fault. Please, baby," she broke the script a little as a fresh wave of emotion came over her. "You and I both know you would never do anything to hurt anyone you cared about. I know you, and I know that there is _nothing_ about you, good or bad, that makes you anything less than a hero. Don't lose yourself like this; don't let them win."

Jason's jaw had begun to unclench, and Kim felt goosebumps crawl up her arms as she noticed the tears that had begun to pool in his eyes. The glow had faded to a dull reddish-brown, the color of clay, and Kim could almost see the deep brown color she knew so well. Kim gripped Jason's neck with both hands and leaned closer until their foreheads were touching, struggling to control her breathing. No matter how many times it happened, it killed her to see him like this; she could only imagine the kind of battle he was waging in his own head. These episodes had been happening with fluctuating frequency since their ordeal on Muranthias. Pair that with what had happened after Zordon's death, and…how Jason had kept from going crazy the last five years she had no idea.

"Jason, please come back to me," Kim pleaded with a catch in her throat. "You are way too goddamn stubborn to let this thing beat you, please, just come back to me. Remember who you are." Kim squeezed her eyes shut and pressed herself against Jason's forehead. She couldn't think of anything else to say; this would be up to him now.

A long, terrifying moment passed, during which all Kim could do was squeeze Jason's head against her own and listen to his labored, ragged breathing echo off the walls of their dark bedroom. Finally, she felt him shudder, heard his breathing finally begin to slow down, and nearly collapsed with relief when he gently pressed his hand against the small of her back.

"Did you rehearse that?"

The sound of his voice was enough to trigger a fresh wave of tears. Kim let out a relieved chuckle and replied, "Let's just say I have a whole lot of hands on experience."

Kim felt a few short bursts of air as Jason laughed softly. After a moment, the laughter stopped, and one of Jason's hands cupped the side of her neck. "Oh God, Kim…"

"Stop," she whispered, taking his hand in hers and opening her eyes to gaze into his face. He wore a pained expression, the apology he was about to give her still perched on the tip of his tongue. She smiled at him and ran her fingers through his dark hair. "You don't have to say anything. I was just so scared; I really thought I might lose you this time…"

Now it was Jason's turn to interrupt. He threw both arms around her shoulders and squeezed her close, pressing his lips against hers. They remained in that embrace, locked together by the intensity of their relief and their love for one another, for a long moment before Jason pulled back, gazing into Kimberly's eyes. "Thank you," he whispered, gently wiping a stray tear off her cheek with his thumb. "Thank you for not giving up on me."

Kim smiled and kissed him again, pressing his head back against the wall. When she pulled back this time her tears had stopped falling. "Never," she said stroking his cheek again before rolling off of him and leaning back against the wall, the cool wood of the headboard a welcome relief to her hot skin. Staring up at the ceiling, where slivers of moonlight poked their way through the blinds over the bedroom window, she sighed and gave voice to a thought she'd been afraid to articulate. "I thought the nightmares were getting less and less frequent."

Jason winced. "They are. But at the same time they're getting more and more intense. I've never had one so powerful before, it was like…" he paused, the silence that filled the room only punctuated by his ragged breathing. His throat was still sore, his head pounding; he could feel his heartbeat in his stomach. Jason licked his lips and continued. "For the first time, it really felt like I was back there, back in that cave, hearing you scream, feeling when we… and then when we came back, I felt it inside me again. It was _there_, Kim," he turned and looked at her, and she saw out of the corner of her eye that his face had begun to lose color. "That _thing_, Maligore or whatever the fuck it was, it was there, it was inside me, and all those feelings it made me have, every sick desire it gave me, they all came flying back. Not just in the dream, but here, when I was awake. For a second there, I think – I think it was more than just a dream. Kim… this wasn't like it's been before. I couldn't come out of it by telling myself it wasn't real. This time, something really made me feel those things, and I actually had to fight it off, push it back down and smother it; I don't think I could've done it without you."

His voice trailed off, and Kim reached out and squeezed his hand, interlocking her fingers with his own. She could tell there was something else he wanted to tell her, something that apparently horrified him. "Tell me," she said, steeling her voice with as much cold resolve as she could muster.

Jason squeezed her hand back and turned to look at her, beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead. He took a moment; it seemed to Kim like he was trying to find the right words. Finally he looked straight into her eyes and said, "This time, just for a second… that thing was actually here."

* * *

**Angel Grove Park  
****July 10, 2012  
****3:30 AM**

They were coming to kill him.

The idea pounded against the inside of his skull like a hammer, the reality of it turning his blood cold as he staggered across the moonlit grass, desperately searching for somewhere to hide. The moon was bright that night, unhindered by clouds, and it cast the trees before him into an eerie silhouette that stood out against the deep blue of the sky. Slowing to a stop, he leaned forward, hands on his knees, and gasped for breath, wincing slightly at the pain that had begun to burn at his left side.

Casting several frightened glances around him, he took a moment to listen through the silence for any sign of his pursuers. They'd tracked him all the way here from LA, where he'd just finished…no. He shook his head frantically, as though the motion would physically eject the memory from his brain. Reaching up to his forehead, he fingered the small wound running from his left temple toward his ear, the small stream of blood trickling down his cheek, as if to remind himself again that he was finally out, finally his own man again – he refused to allow them to control him anymore. He'd lost track of how long he'd been trying to avoid them, to keep his whereabouts a secret, which essentially meant he couldn't stay in one place for longer than a few tense, anxious hours. And all that time on the run had certainly taken its toll: he hadn't slept in almost four days, hadn't had anything to eat or drink besides bathroom tap water and the occasional shoplifted gas station granola bar for the better part of a week.

He straightened and dared a look behind him. For now, only darkness greeted him, but something in the pit of his stomach told him it was only a matter of time. He'd been an idiot, falling asleep at the wheel and leaving his car wrapped around a light pole three blocks away; what was worse, he'd forgotten to arm himself with anything. His car was a damn armory, and he had left everything, right down to his (very recently used) pocketknife, behind. He hadn't waited around to be sure, but he figured someone would have called the cops by now, which meant the people after him knew exactly where to start looking. He knew they had a man in the police department; fuckers had a man everywhere. He was just about to turn forward again and keep running when he saw them – three pairs of headlights, in a single file line, moving with military precision toward his location.

"Shit," he hissed, pressing a hand to his side as he pushed onward, seeking sanctuary in the shadows of the trees. He could hear them behind him now, tires squealing, doors being slammed shut. In his mind he saw them – their faces blank, expressionless, their hands working with almost mechanical efficiency as they readied, loaded and cocked their weapons and gathered into formation. Prepping for the pursuit; it was something he'd grown intimately familiar with over the last decade, and he knew from experience that it never ended well for the pursued.

Gritting his teeth, he focused on continuing forward, placing one foot in front of the other as though just learning to walk.

_I must've cracked a rib or something when I wrecked the car,_ he thought, bile rising in his throat at his apparent return to normal human strength. His freedom, if you could call it that at the moment, had come with a steep price: his enhanced abilities were slowly leaving him, starting with his increased bone strength. Soon, his rapid healing, increased adrenalin production, and heightened reflexes would be lost as well.

Suddenly the night air seemed to press in on him, the sounds and smells of the darkened landscape standing out in sharp relief to his gasping breath and pounding heart. The soft breeze whispered through leaves and grass, crickets quietly chirped to each other in the shadows; somewhere not far off an owl hooted, making its presence known to the prey it would soon devour. He could smell the recent rain on the air, the aroma tangling with the coppery scent of his own blood. As he hurried forward, he crossed an asphalt bike path; the slapping of his shoes on the pavement echoed off the trees ahead, returning to his ears as loud as gunshots thanks to his newly heightened awareness. Glancing up from his feet, he realized that the trees before him formed a peninsula of sorts, jutting out from the rest of the forest and creating a rough wall that he could hide behind.

Moving to the far side of the path and staying on the grass to quiet his footsteps, he took a sudden left turn and moved toward the peninsula's corner, trying his hardest to keep himself hidden in the shadows of the trees. Rounding the corner, he noticed a hill ahead of him, its smooth, gradual slope rising to the base of a massive oak tree that stood alone in the middle of the grass, stretching up toward the sky like an obelisk from an Egyptian tomb. He froze for a moment, torn by indecision – should he round the corner of the treeline and keep stumbling through the undergrowth like a hobbled horse, or take a gamble and seek refuge in the shadow of the massive tree, the location of which might just be unguarded enough to throw his pursuers off the scent?

That choice was made for him when he heard the unmistakable sound of boots squishing in the wet grass, headed toward the treeline. Making up his mind, he let out a long breath through his teeth and darted out of his refuge of shadow, carrying his injured body as quickly as he could across the exposed expanse of grass, throwing himself toward the tree.

When he finally reached it, he reached out a hand and fell against the trunk, fighting with everything he had to keep from collapsing on the spot. His shoulders rose and fell sporadically from the force of his panting, his lungs sucking air so desperately he was close to hyperventilating. Managing a small smile for his minor victory, he turned his back to the tree and leaned against it, closing his eyes and trying to figure out a way to consciously will his heartbeat to slow down.

"Gotcha."

His eyes snapped open at the sound of the voice. He whipped his head back and forth, searching frantically for the source as though it still mattered at this point. It wasn't difficult to locate; the shine from the flashlight before him was blinding, overloading his eyes with the sudden intensity of the beam. He lifted a hand to shield his eyes and tried to make out the man holding the flashlight, but his attempts proved futile – the light was so bright, the surrounding night so dark, that all he saw of his enemy was a fuzzy silhouette that stood out a bit darker than everything else. Then the figure spoke again, and he noticed the way it shifted from one foot to the other, as though brimming with anxiety or excitement.

"Hell of a chase you've lead us on, Bravo 7," the figure said.

_Ok, let's go with excitement,_ he thought, suddenly feeling like he wanted to puke.

"That's not…my name anymore," he said between gasps of air. The figure chuckled a little.

"Holy shit, it grew free will," the figure said, and he could hear the sneer in the voice. "Seriously, though, Bravo, I gotta admit: this one's a little hard for me. That was some fantastic work you did in LA. You could've made a great serial killer in another life."

"Fuck you. I don't work for you anymore." He hoped his voice sounded stronger than what reached his own ears.

The figure suddenly grew serious; the man once known as Bravo 7 heard him pull something from his belt and realized what it meant: this was it. He was going to die.

Well, if he was going out, he was damn well going out swingin'. It didn't matter who his executioner was – what he had to say was universally applicable.

"That's just it, though, isn't it?" he asked, and he watched with a deep sigh of relief as the other man cocked his head, the object in his hand still held at chest level. "I never worked for you. I worked for _them_. For _him_. You still do, and it must just fucking kill you inside that your master's whole brilliant scheme got shot to shit by an insignificant asshole like me."

"You really think you accomplished something?" the figure shot back with a sneer in his voice. "You never got away. Not really. We've known where you were this entire time; it was just a matter of tracking you down. No one will know who you were or what you did – our tech is untraceable. As far as anyone else will know, there's nothing special about you. You'll just be another nameless corpse; another John Doe left to rot on a metal slab until they give up and throw you in the trash where you belong." The object in his hands was rising now, its slow arc ending at what appeared to be shoulder height, extended toward him. The shadowy figure spoke again, and this time the only emotion in his voice was one of cold, animalistic rage.

"Enjoy hell."

His victim slowly reached into his pocket, curling his fingers around the tiny object that lay hidden there and pulling it out, cupping it protectively at his side.

"Funny," he said with a bitter chuckle. "I was about to say the same thing to you."

The object in the figure's hands flashed twice, silently illuminating the tree and the surrounding park in harsh blue light for a couple of fleeting moments before allowing the darkness to flood back in. The man leaning against the tree slumped to a sitting position, the pair of holes in his chest still smoking. As the world around him began to blur, he brought his right hand to his lap and held the small object there, hiding it in his weakening grip as best he could.

As the shadowy figure turned to walk calmly away, the man once known as Bravo 7 took his final, shuddering breaths. A final chill went through him as he realized that the nauseating smell that filled them was that of his own burning flesh.


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **Let me check real quick... yep, Power Rangers are still property of Saban (am I the only one who celebrated a little bit when they bought the franchise back from Disney?). I only own plot ideas and characters you don't know already.

**A/N:** Hey guys! Big thanks to anyone who's reviewed this or added the story to their alerts. Means a lot, really. Sorry this one is a little short - it felt like the right place to end it, and fear not, Chapter 3 will be up in the VERY near future. This should hopefully tide you over til then. Also, the next few chapters contain some stuff about police and FBI procedure that I know absolutely nothing about besides what I've seen on TV, so hopefully nothing is so ridiculously inaccurate as to defy believability. OK, I'm rambling now. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 2  
****Scott Residence  
****July 10, 2012  
****4:58 AM**

"_Well, yeah, but that would make _sense_."_

Several hours later, Kim stirred awake from a peaceful sleep and slowly opened her eyes. She found herself lying curled up sideways on the bed, her head resting in Jason's lap. The first few dull rays of sunlight had begun creeping through the window, and in the faint light of the room Kim craned her neck upward and saw Jason leaned back against the wall, his pillow flipped upright behind him, finally resting calmly. His left arm was loosely draped across her body, as though he was holding her close. She smiled and inhaled deeply, tracing her fingers through the folds of the sheet that lay forgotten across his feet.

Her moment was interrupted by a soft buzz. She looked up and frowned at the sight of Jason's cell phone, which lay on the nightstand on top of his copy of _The Shining_, vibrating against the soft cover, the glow from the screen illuminating the entire room in a harsh electronic light. She reached over and grabbed it, squinting into the display. The caller ID simply said "Work;" she looked at the time and grunted in frustration when she saw that it was only five in the morning.

"Shit," she sighed. Jason had finally fallen asleep, restfully this time, and she hated to have to wake him up. "Damn thing goes off earlier every day." She slid her finger over the phone's touch screen and prepared to answer the call herself, to tell them Jason was sick or something and try to let him sleep.

Another buzz sounded from behind her. Kim whipped her head around and saw her phone vibrating now, the sound not muffled by soft paper like Jason's but loud and resonating off the wood of her nightstand. She felt Jason's phone pulled from her hand and turned to face him. He sleepily glanced at the screen, flopped his head back against the wall and reluctantly brought the phone to his ear, his eyes closing again as a frustrated groan escaped his mouth. He pressed the button to answer and said simply, "Scott." His voice was still thick with sleep, and as he listened to the voice on the other end he brought his free hand up to his face and gripped the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger.

Kim suddenly remembered her own phone, which still vibrated insistently against her nightstand. She hurriedly snatched it up and glanced at the screen even though she knew exactly what she would see. "Grant," her display read; it was her boss' assistant. Jason's boss, too, conveniently enough. The two of them had gone through FBI training together shortly after the Muranthias incident, after Kim had won her pair of medals at the Pan Global Games – gold in the beam and silver in the all-around. It was during the intense 21 weeks of training that the bond between her and Jason had finally blossomed into something more than close friendship. After they had graduated, they'd managed to find posts back home in Angel Grove and their relationship only got stronger the longer they worked together. They'd gotten married last year.

Kim raised her phone to her ear to answer, vaguely hearing Jason grunt behind her. "Wrong Scott, Joey. Again," he said, clearing some of the sleep from his throat. The voice on the other end said something and Jason snorted before retorting, "Yeah, well, this wouldn't happen _ever_ if you would just add first initials to your directory like I've told you to a million times." He turned and caught her eye as she was about to answer her phone, pulling his away from his ear and pressing it against his bare chest. "Don't bother," he said softly. "Joey's telling Grant that he got a hold of me. They must've called us both just to be sure somebody answered."

Kim tapped the ignore button on her phone and set it gently back on the nightstand, stretching her legs as she did so. "You'd think they'd have figured out by now that we live together and they only need to call one number."

"Well, yeah, but that would make _sense_," Jason replied, arching his eyebrows and giving her an amused grin as he brought the phone back to his ear. "Now would you care to tell me why I'm sitting here awake at 5 a.m.?" His overly stern tone was betrayed by the twinkle in his eyes. He listened for a while, and Kim took the opportunity to lean back against his body and lay her head on his shoulder. He responded by wrapping his left arm around her absentmindedly, as if on reflex. His hand swung loosely back and forth across her chest; she slept in one of his old T-shirts, and she felt the tips of his fingers gently brush against her breasts through the thin fabric. She gently swatted his hand away, and he turned to give her a look of mock hurt before suddenly turning back to the call. "Wait, wait. Another one? Here? Are they sure?" She furrowed her brow and turned to look at him again, confused by the shocked look on his face.

"Right, got it," he finally said, closing his eyes again for a moment. "We're only a few minutes from there, we'll handle the police. Yeah. Thanks." He hung up and gently set the phone back down on top of the book. When he turned back to face her, still rubbing sleep from his eyes, he didn't miss the concerned way she looked back at him. He sighed and said, "There's been another murder; they think it's the same MO as the ones in LA and Phoenix."

"But this one was around here somewhere?"

He nodded. "Someone found the body in the park and called it in. Leaned up against that tree where we used to have all those picnics in high school."

"Great," Kim muttered. "Nothing like a dead body to lend the place an air of romance. But wait," she said, looking up at Jason. "I thought you told me the murders in LA always happened in twos: two bodies, same cause of death, found at two different locations at roughly the same time. There's only one here."

"They did with the first two in Phoenix, and as far as I knew they had been since I got the first calls from LA. That's what's so weird about it," Jason said, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and curling his toes into the carpet. "Joey told me the body count in LA had hit an odd number as of ten days ago. They were starting to wonder if maybe the pairs of bodies had just been a coincidence until this came in. There's never been this much separation between kills before, but everything else matches too well for this not to be connected." He stood slowly, grunting and scratching his thigh. "God I need a shower," he muttered to himself, digging the heel of his hand into his eyes.

"Yeah, well, so do I, so don't fall asleep in there," she taunted him playfully, standing herself and beginning to make the bed. He raised his eyebrows at her, and she continued. "What? You are the only person I've ever met who actually has the ability to fall asleep standing up."

Jason shook his head and turned back around toward the bathroom. As he reached the door, he turned and said over his shoulder, "First of all, for the record, I don't sleep standing up, I lean against the wall. Secondly, I'm not the one who can't stay awake on an airplane for longer than five minutes. Judge not lest ye be judged." He entered the bathroom and flicked the light on, shooting her one more grin as he reached for the doorknob.

"The rumbling is very comforting!" she called after him as he closed the door behind him.

"I'll have to remember that next Valentine's Day," he said through the door. She could hear the smirk in his voice.

"Jason Lee Scott!" she cried in mock outrage, shaking her head and grinning at the sound of his hysterical laughter as she started straightening the sheets. They showed no sign she could see of the ordeal they'd been through the night before.


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **Saban owns Power Rangers. I just own a laptop and an overactive imagination.

**A/N: **First, big thanks to everyone who reviewed/alerted/favorited/insert verb ending in -ed here. This chapter has more of that procedural stuff that I use creatively for the story and is of questionable accuracy at best. sz2000 helped me out with some of this (thanks a million, by the way), so now I've at least got a factual base for some of this stuff, which should help make it a bit more convincing. Anyway, I'll shut up now so you can get to what you really came here for.

* * *

**Chapter 3**

**Scott Residence  
****July 10, 2012  
****5:15 AM**

"_Don't you own anything that _isn't _red?"_

Jason reached out and turned off the shower, listening to the sucking sound of water going down the drain as he slid the door open a crack and reached his hand out, grasping blindly for a towel. His fingers closed around the first piece of cloth they came across, and he tugged it back into the shower and closed the door, trying to contain some of the steam while he ran the towel through his wet hair. He wondered if Kim had noticed how quiet he'd been – he usually sang in the shower, loud and occasionally off-key, the hot water relaxing more than just his stiff muscles. This morning, however, he'd kind of been on autopilot, going through the motions of taking a shower but paying more attention to his own thoughts. The events of the night before were weighing heavily on his mind.

He and Kim hadn't told any of their fellow former Rangers about what they'd been experiencing since Muranthias – hell, Kim had had nightmares too for a while, and it wasn't like with their combined five-plus years of active Ranger duty they didn't have enough nightmare material to last them several lifetimes anyway (a certain Green Ranger sprang immediately to mind). But after a while, Kim's nightmares had stopped; Jason's had only gotten worse.

At first the dreams had just gotten steadily more intense; after Kim had stopped having them, though, Jason's nightmares had started to manifest themselves physically. About four years ago he'd awakened to bloody wounds on his hands, where his fists had clenched so tightly his fingernails had dug into the skin of his palms. Having that happen on a semi-regular basis was frightening enough; then one night a few months later, he'd caught the first glimpse of his reflection, his eyes glowing that deep, bloody red that Tommy and the others had described to him.

Jason slowly slid the shower door open and stepped out onto the linoleum, groaning into the towel as the memory of that night went through his head. That was when things had gone beyond even the degree of weird a former Red Ranger was equipped to deal with. After that night, any strong rush of intense emotion – anger (when he'd first gotten the news of Zordon's death), grief (the night he'd gotten the call about his mother's accident) or even joy (the night he proposed to Kim) – would cause his eyes to flash that same shade of red. Over time, less and less powerful feelings were required, and the flashes became almost entirely unpredictable. That part had been impossible to hide from their friends. Jason had done his best to talk around the issue, promising that he and Kim had already made plans to see a doctor and then quickly trying to change the subject. He'd hoped they would just chalk the whole thing up to Jason being Jason, hoped his characteristically stubborn refusal to show even the slightest hint of vulnerability could actually work in his favor for once; still, the concerned looks they always shot him when they thought he wasn't watching told him they didn't completely buy his story.

_It wasn't all bullshit_, Jason thought as he stared at himself in the mirror, noticing for the first time how tired he still looked. He and Kim _had_ actually gone to see a doctor, though all they'd told him was that Jason had been having night terrors. He'd done a brain scan, which of course turned up nothing, and then gave them the name of a psychologist.

Jason grimaced at that memory as he rubbed shaving cream onto his face and reached for a razor. Most of what the woman had told them had been absolutely no help, but she had given Jason a way to try and ease some of the guilt he felt by helping him acknowledge his loss of control (the details had been kept sketchy – all he'd told her was that he'd been put in a situation that forced him to behave in a way he'd regretted). Jason didn't know it, but she had also helped Kim devise a rough script for calming Jason down if one of his episodes was particularly intense.

Jason finished shaving, placed his razor back in the holder on the sink, and slapped his cheeks a few times, trying to clear his head and put some color back in his face at the same time. Finally, he pulled his gaze away from his reflection, wrapped the towel around his waist, and strode back out into the bedroom to find Kim perched on the edge of their now perfectly made bed, just hanging up from a phone call.

"Who was that?" he asked, leaning against the bathroom doorway. Kim glanced over at him and Jason suddenly changed his mind about the towel. He let it fall loose, caught it in his hand, flung it over the bathroom door, and crossed the room naked, giving Kim a chance to admire his sculpted stomach and impressively muscled figure, parts of which still glistened with water.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," she said, eying him appreciatively up and down. Jason slid open a drawer and pulled out a pair of red boxers. As he stepped into them he looked up at Kim and raised an eyebrow.

"Try me," he said, smiling mischievously. Kim ignored him completely and just stared at him for a moment. "What?"

She looked up at him and gestured with mock exasperation at the boxers he'd pulled on. "Don't you own anything that _isn't_ red?"

Jason grinned and hooked a finger under the waistband. "Why would I? Being a red ranger is 'in my blood,' remember? I've been subconsciously programmed to wear this color since high school. Why stop now? After all," he snapped the elastic against his hip. "I've always looked so damn good in it."

Kim chuckled to herself and shook her head. "And it goes so well with your natural modesty."

"What was that?"

"Nothing. Anyway, that call was the second one I got while you were in there. The first one was Foster. He said because of the unusually early hours, we can take our time a little getting to the scene, on two conditions – we still have to be there before he shows up from LA…"

"Which knowing him gives us approximately zero extra time," Jason grumbled.

Kim ignored him and continued. "And you have to make the coffee."

Jason considered what she'd said for a moment. "Wow, he didn't have to – wait, he knows that coffee I make that he loves so much comes out of a package, right? One he could very easily buy and make himself?"

"Apparently not. Anyway, he said he wouldn't usually do this but he recognized the name of the lead detective from AGPD Homicide and he seemed to think we could persuade him to cooperate and hold down the scene for us, make sure nothing gets tampered with. In his own words, it's 'that Irish guy your husband can't shut the hell up about.' Sound familiar?"

"Tommy isn't actually Irish, is he?" The question was out of Jason's mouth before he realized what Kim had just said. He suddenly whipped his head around to face her, his eyes widening. "Wait, Tommy? _He's_ working this for AGPD?"

Kim nodded. "That was basically my reaction too. Tommy's always off lending an assist in Oakland or San Diego or Pasadena. Frankly, I'm surprised AGPD even has a homicide division. There hasn't been an actual murder inside the Angel Grove city limits since…" Her voice trailed off and she made eye contact with Jason as he finished pulling a white T-shirt over his head.

"Since us," he finished for her, filling the last word with several years and countless battles' worth of meaning.

Kim just nodded again, absently brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Anyway, I called Tommy and apparently he's already there – I guess he was on patrol or something, and he got all excited about us working together again like the good old days. I get the distinct impression that getting him to cooperate won't be all that difficult." She smiled, the idea of working with her old teammate again taking her back to the glory days of her youth.

"Yeah, well, that's what I thought about getting the green candle, and look how that turned out for everyone," Jason retorted. When Kim didn't respond, he looked up and saw her staring blankly into space, her expression one of blissful recollection. He snuck across the room, grabbed his towel off the door and threw it at her, snapping her out of her reverie. "Watch it, Crane," he said, dropping her old nickname as she glared at him past the wet towel draped across her face. "Don't go getting all dreamy on me and forget to shower. I'm not the only one who has to get cleaned up in the morning."

Kim snorted and threw the towel back at him. Jason caught it easily and grinned devilishly at her. She hopped off the bed and stormed across the bedroom, stopping in the bathroom doorway much like he had and jabbing a finger at him. "You'll pay for that, Rex," she hissed, struggling to keep a straight face as she slammed the door behind her.

Jason reacted quickly – he knew that tone all too well. Kim was a sweetheart most of the time, but her vengeful side was the stuff they wrote horror novels about. "I'll just go make breakfast," he called through the door, grabbing some clothes and his wallet before heading for the hallway.

"Love you too!"

* * *

Jason had just taken a fresh pot of coffee out of the coffeemaker and was reaching for a mug when he heard Kim's footsteps on the hardwood floor at the base of the stairs. She was still humming the tune of the song she'd been singing in the shower, and Jason couldn't help but smile as he pulled another mug from the cupboard and let the door swing shut. His smile disappeared, however, when he heard her footsteps abruptly stop.

Kim's song died in her throat as Jason turned and held up a mug, about to offer it to her; the look on her face, however, was startling enough that his whole train of thought was broken. The only thing he could think of to say was, "Well, I guess someone's not walking on sunshine after all."

She frowned at him and put her hands on her hips, fixing him with a look that made even a man as strong and powerful as Jason a little nervous. He just stared at her. Kim wore a black pantsuit with a pink blouse underneath, a few buttons left undone at the top. Her hair, perfectly styled as always, fell gently over her shoulders, held away from her face by a pink clip. A pair of high-heeled shoes dangled in one hand, the same hand she used to gesture at Jason. "Is that really what you're wearing?"

Jason spread his arms and looked down at himself. He wore a red button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled tightly up to his elbows, which he'd tucked into a pair of dark jeans, and boots. His gun hung from the shoulder holster he wore strapped across his chest like suspenders. The top two buttons of the shirt were undone, revealing the collar of the white T-shirt underneath. Jason looked back up at Kim. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

She gaped at him incredulously. "Did you just conveniently forget that Foster completely laid into you less than a week ago about dressing professionally at crime scenes? Or at work in general, for that matter. You may not like it, but the Bureau has a bit of a fixation on image."

Jason scoffed and turned back to the coffee. "I do remember Foster ripping into me, and I seem to recall it had more to do with me showing too much chest. Hence the T-shirt." He motioned to his chest as he handed Kim a full cup of steaming coffee. "I also remember that the next day I wore a T-shirt under a leather jacket to work and he didn't say a damn thing. Didn't even look at me funny. Which, by the way, is more than I can say for you." She cocked her head at him, bewildered. "You're like a pinker version of Agent Scully over there." Jason grinned and brought his cup of coffee to his lips, leaning his weight against the edge of the counter.

Kim glanced down at herself and sighed. "I didn't even realize I put on the pink shirt. I didn't even think about it." Suddenly she looked back up at him. "Your eyes flashed when you were arguing with me. Right around _didn't say a damn thing_. They stayed that way for a while, too – pretty much until you smiled."

Jason closed his eyes, dropped his chin to his chest and sighed loudly. Setting his cup down on the counter, he reached for a Thermos for Foster and glanced at the toaster, where two bagels were about to pop. He moved silently, his happy demeanor from before seemingly completely gone. Kim set her shoes on the floor and started working her feet into them. "We have to talk about what happened, Jason. I know you don't want to, but I also know you understand how important it is that I know everything you're going through. And if what happened last night was as bad as you said it was…" she paused and he turned and regarded her, standing there leaning against the staircase with one shoe on. Finally she continued. "Maybe it's time we tell the others."

"It was and we're not," Jason replied softly, grabbing a pair of paper plates as the bagels popped up in the toaster. "The others still look at me like the leader I was six years ago. I don't want them seeing me like this."

"Damn it, Jason," Kim replied sharply, earning a surprised look. "Do you honestly believe they'll think anything less of you if you tell them what you've been fighting the last five years? That they'll blame you or something? This wasn't something you did wrong or failed at – this was something that was done to you. For Christ's sake, you _know_ that, you've told me so. Don't you think any of them, especially Billy or Tommy, would jump at the chance to help you, after all you did for us? But for them to do anything, you need to let them in." She stopped, and they just looked at each other across the kitchen for a long while. Finally, Jason's shoulders slumped and he broke eye contact with her.

"If I have another episode like this one, I promise I'll tell them." He looked up at Kim; she just gazed at him expectantly. "All of them." She still didn't break her gaze. "We can send out a fucking press release, I'll shout it from the damn mountaintops, you can post it on YouTube for all I care. Can we go now?"

Kim's face broke into a grin. "You really are just a big softie, you know that?"

Jason rolled his eyes, snorted, and went about gathering up their breakfasts and Foster's coffee. "Whatever. You married me. Now grab the damn car keys. World ain't gonna save itself."


	5. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: ** All things Power Rangers belong to Saban. The songs referenced during Jason and Kim's game are by Dexy's Midnight Runners, 30 Seconds to Mars, Pat Benatar, Color Me Badd, Jermaine Stewart, Dusty Springfield, Hall & Oates, Chaka Khan, Frank Sinatra, the Proclaimers, Taking Back Sunday and Chumbawamba. I don't own any part of any of them, I just use them here for fun. All I own are plot ideas, characters that were never on your TV, and a highly overactive imagination.

**A/N: **Big thanks to sz2000 and brankel1 for constant reviewing. You guys are awesome. Thanks also to anyone who added this story to alerts/favorites. Sorry about the wait - I have a policy of not uploading a chapter until I've written another one, so that there's a backup supply for extreme circumstances, and chapter 8 was giving me all kinds of trouble. The song titles game is inspired by something my friends and I used to do all the time in high school; it was also a game from _Whose Line is it Anyway?_

* * *

**In Transit  
****Angel Grove, California  
****July 10, 2012  
****5:35 AM**

"_Well, I see you guys haven't lost your touch for bickering over things that mean nothing."_

Jason sat in the driver's seat of his dark red pickup, waiting while Kim keyed in the code for their garage door and watched it close. As she turned to jog back to the car, he turned one of the air vents toward her seat and took a big bite of his toasted bagel. When the door swung shut beside him, he turned and examined Kim, noticing with a twinge of guilt the tension in her shoulders, the nerves she was trying to hide. He put the truck into reverse and was about to pull into the street when he suddenly turned back to her and said, "Wanna bet we can go the whole way without stopping?"

Kim turned toward him eagerly, knowing exactly what he was talking about. "Oh, you are _so_ on, Big Red. First one to be stumped makes breakfast for a week?"

Jason glanced in the rearview mirror as he put the car in drive and started down their street, feeling a wave of excitement at the authenticity of the grin on his face. He shot Kim a daring look and said, "Come On Eileen."

She raised her eyebrows at him. "This Is War."

He shrugged, slowing to stop at a red light. "Love Is A Battlefield."

Kim giggled. "I Wanna Sex You Up."

Jason fought to stifle a laugh. "We Don't Have To Take Our Clothes Off."

As the truck pulled through the intersection, Kim reached over and turned the air conditioning off, rolling down the window instead. The air that filled the cab of the pickup truck was warm and thick with moisture, carrying with it the sweet smells of recent rain and fresh cut grass. The world was illuminated in shades of blue and green, the sun still hidden by the horizon at this early hour. The streets were quiet, especially for a work day, the occasional jogger the only thing to break the serenity of the Southern Californian tableau spread out before them. Kim took a moment to think, inhaling the air deeply before turning back to Jason and pretending to pout. "Son of A Preacher Man," she said accusingly.

"Man Eater," he replied without missing a beat.

They played this game all the time, especially on days like this when they needed to blow off a little steam. They'd spend their drives to and from work speaking to each other exclusively in song titles and seeing how long they could last; sometimes they'd just throw it into random conversation, a sort of private language that only their close friends understood. The game had its roots in their teen years, when their group of six playing together could stretch it out for hours on end; the return to familiar things like this always seemed to calm their nerves. Jason sighed and took one hand off the wheel, steadying his speed at four over the limit and resting his left arm on the windowsill, waiting for Kim to take her turn. "I'm Every Woman," she said defensively, crossing her arms in front of her.

Jason raised one eyebrow. "The Lady is a Tramp," he retorted, stifling a chuckle.

They continued on this way all the way to the park, the rumbling of Jason's truck and their giddy laughter the only things breaking the serenity of the promising summer morning unfolding before them.

* * *

**Angel Grove Park  
****July 10, 2012  
****5:45 AM**

The park was already a hive of activity by the time Jason pulled into the parking lot and killed the engine. At least a dozen police cars were parked in the lot, along the street, and even on the grass, their lights blaring. Yellow crime scene tape wound its way around the park entrance and the surrounding trees, barring access to anyone other than the handful of crime scene techs or uniformed police officers who milled around the area, the backs of their vests emblazoned with AGPD.

Jason and Kim climbed out of the truck and strode toward the tape, adding to the cacophony with the argument they'd been having in the car.

"Parenthetical titles are not required to have it count," Kim insisted, reaching into her purse for her ID. Jason scoffed at her and shook his head.

"They have been for the entire time we've played this game, especially if it means the song won't make sense in the conversation. Or is that not a rule anymore in Kim World either?" He tugged his ID out of his back pocket, flashing it at the cop standing guard without ever taking his eyes off Kim.

"Don't you think it makes more sense to make something like that optional? It's stupid to not be able to say 'I'm Gonna Be' just because you have to add '500 Miles' to the end of it." The two of them ducked under the crime scene tape and continued toward the site where the body had been found, turning heads with their bickering as they went.

"I don't think you realize how needlessly complicated that would make the game. By that logic, I could say 'Liar' and you could respond with 'It Takes One to Know One,' and then we'd get into an issue of whether that violates the rule against repetition," Jason said, gesturing emphatically as they made their way through the park, passing a basketball court and a small café as they went. "Playing it your way lets you pick and choose what part of the title you want to use to fit it into the conversation easier, and I'm pretty sure we all agreed years ago that that would defeat the whole purpose of the game."

"I don't remember you being such a stickler for the rules when I called you out on breaking the lyrics rule. You're just pissed cause I wouldn't let you use 'Tubthumping' as part of a coherent conversation."

Jason opened his mouth to retort, but the appearance of a familiar figure moving quickly toward them pulled caught his attention. Tommy Oliver practically sprinted across the grass to greet them, his long hair tied back in a ponytail that ran halfway down his back, his trademark arrowhead necklace bouncing against his chest. He wore a tight-fitting white button down shirt that exhibited his toned upper body, the sleeves rolled up to the elbow; a thin tie the color of pine needles hung around his neck, the knot pulled down to accommodate the two top buttons he'd left undone. The shirt was tucked into a pair of black slacks, and Tommy's badge, clipped to his belt, stood out sharply against the dark background. He approached his old friends, grinning, and started to say something about the eight months that had passed since they'd seen each other, but Jason cut him off, pulling Tommy into the argument as smoothly as though they were still seventeen. "Tommy, please tell Kim that you have to use the entire song title and you can't just not say the parenthetical part whenever you decide it's convenient."

Kim slugged Jason on the shoulder and looked imploringly at Tommy. "Well first, would you please remind Jason that he can't just pick and choose which rules to enforce because he's such a whiny little ass about losing."

"Can you please tell Kim that we agreed on these rules for a reason and it's not my fault she can't be bothered to follow them?"

Tommy just stood there, glancing from one of them to the other. "Well, I see you guys haven't lost your touch for bickering over things that mean nothing," he said with a laugh, clapping Jason on the shoulder. "Luckily Kat and I haven't gotten to that part yet."

Jason smiled and held out his hand. Tommy clasped it in his own and pulled him into a one-armed hug. "It's good to see you, man," Jason said, patting Tommy on the back before letting him go. "Like old times, huh?"

Tommy nodded and turned to Kim, who grinned sheepishly and said, "Sorry about that. We really get into that game sometimes."

Tommy laughed and pulled her into a hug of her own. "Don't worry about it," he said into her shoulder before letting go. "When we'd play that game as kids you two were always the last ones left. I still don't know how you can remember all those songs."

Jason tapped the side of his head with a finger. "Don't you remember? My brain is a lethal weapon, honed to deadly precision. Now," he rubbed his hands together as Tommy and Kim rolled their eyes at each other. "Why don't we get down to business? It's miraculous enough that we beat Foster here, I'd rather not let him catch us screwing around."

"It's over here," Tommy said, suddenly all business. As they covered the last few dozen yards to the crime scene, Tommy turned and said, "You two do realize that this is the first murder victim found within the Angel Grove city limits since the Power Rangers showed up, right?"

"Oh, believe me, the thought occurred to us," Jason said. Kim shuddered, rubbing her arms despite the warmth of the morning. The three of them walked the rest of the way in nervous silence, trying not to think about the implications of Tommy's observation.

* * *

**The Big Oak Tree/Crime Scene  
****Angel Grove Park  
****5:50 AM**

The body lay right where Joey had told Jason it would be, leaning up against the giant oak tree that had been the site of so many Power Ranger picnics. As the three old friends approached, the crime scene tech kneeling over the corpse glanced up at them, then turned to Tommy, his expression curious.

"Special Agents Jason and Kimberly Scott, FBI," Tommy said to everyone within earshot before Jason or Kim could say a word on their own behalf.

Jason's mouth slowly closed, words of introduction dying on his lips as he shrugged and gestured to Tommy. "What he said. What have we got?"

The tech said nothing, just gathered his equipment, stood up, nodded to Tommy, and brushed past them, headed back toward the park entrance. Kim watched him go, then turned her gaze on Tommy. "I guess that's your cue."

"Shouldn't I wait until your boss gets here?" Tommy asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "He seemed pretty insistent over the phone."

"Honestly I'm surprised he didn't show up before we did," Jason said, and Tommy didn't miss the nervous glances he made in various different directions before continuing. "Swear to god that guy's either never slept a second in his life or he invented teleportation while no one was looking."

"Glad to know you think so highly of me, Scott," a gruff voice echoed through the trees. Tommy looked over Jason's shoulder to see a man wearing a dark suit approaching them; the guy appeared to be about ten or twelve years their senior, his hair cut short, military style, flecks of grey showing in his dark goatee. He stood about Jason's height, and carried himself as though he'd once been built like a linebacker; as Tommy watched him now, however, he could tell the man's relatively slight frame belied a solid build.

The guy strode up behind Jason and leaned forward until his chin was practically resting on Jason's shoulder as he spoke. "Now if only you could show it by not being such a smartass."

Jason never moved – never turned around, never shifted his weight, never even changed his facial expression. Tommy was awed by his old friend's show of restraint – the Jason he'd grown up with could never stay that still for that long with someone approaching from behind. Clearly he'd grown very well accustomed to this man's quirks. As Foster finished talking, Jason reached out, snatched the Thermos from Kim, raised it to shoulder level and said cheerfully, "Morning, sir."

Foster regarded Jason for a moment before taking the Thermos and drinking greedily. He moaned softly as he pulled the Thermos away from his lips. "Damn good coffee, Scott. Luckily for you, my teleportation machine broke down this morning and I really needed this, or I would have taken this opportunity to remind you that the Bureau's policy of professional image is not something that can just be ignored for the sake of convenience. You are here to enforce the laws of this country, you should at least make an effort to look sharp every once in a while." Foster took another sip from the Thermos, then moved between Jason and Kim, gesturing to Tommy to begin. Jason winced and shot a glance at Kim behind Foster's back; she fixed him with a look that said, _What did I tell you?_ He responded with a glare, but had to cut it short when he heard Tommy start talking.

"I gotta tell you, Agent Foster," Tommy said, stepping around to the other side of the body. "I'm kinda glad you guys stepped in on this one so quickly. We've never seen anything like this before."


	6. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **Power Rangers are still owned by Saban. I only own the plot and people you never saw on TV. There are two lines in this chapter that are direct quotes from the Turbo movie; Saban owns that, too.

**A/N: **Gonna keep this short this time. Thank you again to all reviewers/alerts/favorites and please forgive my extensive creative liberties with FBI and police procedure. This chapter is one that I've been excited to post for a while now. As far as why, let me just say this: shit's about to get REAL up in this bitch.

* * *

**The Big Oak Tree/Crime Scene  
****Angel Grove Park  
****July 10, 2012  
****6:00 AM**

"_One of you wanna tell me what the fuck just happened?"_

Jason stepped up beside Foster, watching as Tommy approached the body and took a knee in the grass. The victim was a Hispanic male who appeared to be in his early to mid-30's; he wore a tattered, tight-fitting white polo shirt that was apparently designed to show off his muscular body, and black cargo pants. He sat slumped against the tree, his knees bent slightly toward his chest. His dark eyes stared sightlessly out from his head, where a thin trickle of blood traced its way down his left cheek. Tommy rested one elbow on his thigh and began gesturing toward the corpse; Jason noticed Kim pull a notebook out of her pocket and chuckled to himself as she prepared to take notes. Tommy took a deep, shaky breath before speaking.

"The body was discovered sometime late last night. There aren't any witness statements to speak of – we got an anonymous tip – but the cause of death seems fairly obvious…" Tommy drew a circle in the air with his fingers around an area on the victim's chest where two holes about the size of golf balls were visible. The holes were perfectly round and absolutely bloodless. "Though that's only until you ask what the murder weapon is. I'm pretty sure most people wouldn't accept lasers as an answer."

"You get an ID on the victim?" Kim asked Tommy without looking at him, her eyes trained on her notebook.

Tommy licked his lips and Jason suddenly realized how unnerved his old friend really was. "No. He had no identification on him – no wallet, no keys, not even a cell phone. Nothing in his pockets except about a hundred bucks in cash. We got fingerprints and sent them back to check, but somehow I doubt we'll get any matches on this guy."

"Dental records will probably get something," Foster muttered, though Jason didn't hear a lot of conviction in the words.

The four of them stood in silence for a moment, staring at the corpse lying at their feet. Jason glanced from Kim to Tommy and back again, noting the anxiety in both of their stances, Tommy shifting his weight back and forth, Kim fixing her attention on her scant notes and almost refusing to look at the body. Finally, Jason's eye was drawn back to the twin holes in the man's chest, through which the grass beneath the body was clearly visible.

"The wounds are completely cauterized, right?" Jason looked to Tommy for confirmation, receiving a quick nod from his old friend in return. Jason pursed his lips and nodded to himself, crossing his arms over his chest and running his eyes over the body. "Looks like exactly the same MO as the murders in LA and Phoenix–" Suddenly Jason stopped and frowned. "Except…" he crouched down and leaned in close to the man's head where the small trickle of blood from a tiny wound above the left temple was still drying on the paling skin.

"Scott?" Foster narrowed his eyes at Jason and nudged the younger man with his knee when he didn't respond. "Scott." Jason blinked, then turned and looked up at Foster, making eye contact. "You're our resident expert on this case. Care to share?"

"Right, yeah," Jason replied, shaking his head. He'd been working this case for almost seven months now, spending every other day in LA attempting to find something, anything that could point him in the right direction; Kim had only been brought in a few days ago, after he'd finally caught her between cases and requested a partner. The number of hours they'd spent poring over crime scene photos and pondering the utter lack of substantial witness statements was staggering, and yet after all this time…nothing. Then, now, out of nowhere, this anomaly in the pattern had just been dropped into their laps. Jason glanced at Kim as he snapped out of his reverie; for a moment he'd been unable to comprehend what he was seeing, the shock of finally getting a potential break catching him off guard.

Turning his gaze back to his boss, Jason pointed with an emphasis that bordered on excitement at the victim's forehead. "This wound here is the first time any victim has shown any other injury besides these," he said, gesturing to the circular chest wounds. Musing aloud, Jason resumed studying the wound and said, "Don't head wounds usually bleed more than this?" Turning to Tommy, Jason pointed at the head injury again and asked, "What did your guys make of it?"

Tommy shrugged. "Only that the minimal blood loss and tissue discoloration indicated the wound was post mortem. Not much else, really. Everyone was so fascinated by those chest wounds that we didn't talk much about anything else."

"Guess it's a good thing I'm so desensitized, then," Jason said, examining the head wound further. It was small, a cut across the left temple just above the hairline, running perpendicular to the forehead. "Kim, can I borrow your pen for a second?" Kim knelt next to her husband on the grass and leaned over the body.

"I got it," she said, reaching past Jason and prodding at the wound gently with the metal tip of her pen. Her eyes widened a little. "Are you thinking what I think you're thinking?"

Jason smiled grimly at her. "That it's still incredibly creepy when you do that?"

Kim swatted him playfully on the shoulder. "Just consider yourself lucky I only use my powers for good."

Foster cleared his throat, and the couple looked up sheepishly and rose to their feet, brushing grass off their pants. Foster glanced from Kim to Jason.

"If you two have had your fill of sexual tension, am I to gather that you've found something relevant?"

"Yes sir," Jason said immediately, his face reddening slightly. "Since the amount of blood loss is minimal, we can tell the wound is scooped, as though a chunk of flesh was removed. That, and if AGPD is right about the wound being post mortem, this is not a defensive wound or anything else – this was deliberate. I can only think of one explanation-"

"The killer dug something out of this guy's forehead?" Tommy interjected, staring at Jason in bewilderment.

"Somebody did. Did you find anything nearby?"

"We might have if anyone had bothered to look." Kim frowned at Tommy, her mouth opening slightly as though about to speak. Tommy quickly continued. "Hey, it's not every day someone finds a body in the park that looks like they were killed with a damn lightsaber. People were a little distracted, OK?" His tone shifted gradually from genuinely indignant to deliberately guarded, keying Jason in to the subtext. Tommy had been distracted too, but for a different reason – weird shit like this _had_ once been an everyday occurrence for him. Jason gave Tommy a nearly imperceptible nod as Foster shook his head.

"Doesn't matter. If someone did dig something out of this poor bastard's head after he was dead, they probably took it with them. No way in hell anyone would be stupid enough to leave something like that behind." It was a perfectly logical argument – for all of about four seconds.

"Wait. What's that on the ground between his legs?" Kim pointed to the ground beneath the man's bent knees, just in front of where he sat in the grass.

"What are you talking about? I don't see –" As Jason stepped closer to Kim, however, he got a different angle on the body and saw the glare from the sun that shone off something lying in the grass near the dead man's crotch. Tommy leaned down with a pair of tweezers he seemed to have conjured from nowhere and gently plucked the object off the ground. "What is it?"

Tommy held the object close to his face. It was a tiny glass cylinder, still smeared with the dead man's blood; at various points on its surface, tiny wires were attached to it, their ends holding what appeared to be some kind of electrodes. "It looks like some kind of implant," Tommy said aloud. "I think this little glass thing has some kind of processor or something in it but the blood makes it hard to see."

"Let me have a look," Kim said, stepping over the corpse and leaning in next to Tommy, squinting at the tiny object. "This thing was embedded in this guy's skin," she mused to no one in particular, turning to glance down at the body for a moment. Turning her gaze back to the mysterious implant, she furrowed her brow and put her hands on her hips. "What the hell was it put there for? Did it do something or was he trying to hide it? And if whoever killed him cut it out afterwards, why would they leave it here?"

"I think before we can ask that question we have to answer another," Jason replied. "If we can figure out what this thing is or what it does, the question of what happened here and why will be halfway to answering itself."

Foster turned and regarded Jason for a moment. "Scott, you're sure you've never seen anything like this before?"

"Sir, I've seen every single other body that's been found in this case, and not one of them had an injury on them like this. I think we should redo our autopsies on all the other victims and see if anything turns up."

Foster nodded. "Good thinking, Scott. I knew you had a brain in there somewhere." Jason smirked. "Now," Foster continued, sipping his coffee. "I'm assuming you'll want a little additional help now that this new lead has opened up?" He looked at Tommy, a knowing gleam in his eye.

Jason glanced quickly at Kim, who'd already broken into a wide grin. She threw her arm around Tommy's shoulders and turned to face Foster, practically bouncing with joy. "Ohmygod that would be fantastic!" She squeezed Tommy's shoulder even tighter and giggled with anticipation. Tommy threw Jason an imploring look that quickly transformed into a glare at the sight of Jason's amused smile. Doing his best to put on a straight face, the man in red addressed Foster again.

"To put that a bit more rationally, sir, Tommy's already learned more about this case than we've allowed anyone else to know; besides, we can always use an extra hand. Plus, it'll make it a lot easier on Kim and me if we can base our investigation here instead of having to commute back and forth to LA every day. If Tommy can offer us the cooperation of AGPD on this…" he glanced at Tommy expectantly and received a nod in return. "Then we should have no problem picking things up from here and combining forces."

Foster just stared at Jason and arched his eyebrows.

Jason groaned and rolled his eyes. "And yes, it would be awesome to work this case with my best friend. Satisfied?"

Foster winked at Jason and grinned, taking another long sip from the Thermos. "All right, Scott, all right. You and Kim can bring Detective Oliver into the loop. I'm heading back to LA and I expect you two to keep me _constantly_ updated. Understood?"

Kim beamed even wider and Jason threw Foster a two-finger salute as the other man turned and strode off, disappearing behind the trees. Jason just watched him go for a moment; as soon as he was out of sight, Jason let out an annoyed chuckle and smacked himself on the forehead. "He never gave me my Thermos back. And I thought Tommy had a bad memory."

"I'm standing right here, you know."

Jason turned around, the laughter he'd struggled to keep off his face shining in his eyes. He cocked his head. "Of course you are. How could I bust your balls if you weren't?"

"Oh, stop it, Jason," Kim scolded good-humoredly, disentangling herself from Tommy to lean into Jason and wrap an arm around his waist. "Is this really any way to treat your best friend?"

"Well if the last ten years have been any indication…"

"I swear to god if you finish that sentence…"

"What would you give me if I didn't?"

"What would you want?"

Jason leaned in close and spoke softly into her ear, just loudly enough that Tommy could hear him. "You know that thing you do with the whipped cream and the spatula?"

"OK, now that _that_ image has been permanently burned into my brain, I should probably get out of here," Tommy said, starting to head back the way they'd come.

"Wait, bro!" Jason called after him through his laughter. "You need a ride back or something?"

Tommy regarded the two of them for a moment. Kim had leaned into Jason's body and nestled herself snugly into the crook of his left arm. Her head rested on his shoulder; Jason's other arm wrapped itself protectively around her waist, his fingers intertwining with those of her left hand. They were like two pieces of a puzzle, fitting together so well it was as if they were one entity. Tommy smiled and shook his head. "Could I ever say no to you two?"

"Probably not," Kim said with a wink, pulling away from Jason and tightening her grip on his hand as they walked over to Tommy. "We can stop and wait for you to arrange for the body to be picked up on the way back."

"Great. Let's go – I think I need another Mountain Dew."

"Tommy, it's not even 6:30 in the morning."

"So?"

Jason leaned in toward Kim again and spoke in the same stage whisper he'd used before. "It's amazing. Anything green is like crack to him."

With that, the three old friends began their trek back to the park entrance, laughing and joking like the carefree teenagers they'd once been.

* * *

As the three of them made their way down the winding asphalt trail that led back to the park entrance, Jason turned to them and asked, "Am I the only one who's noticed how profoundly weird it is that so many people from our old team do some kind of government or law-enforcement work?"

Kim and Tommy exchanged glances before Jason continued. "I mean, look at us. Kim and I are FBI, Tommy works Homicide for AGPD, Rocky, Adam and Aisha are firefighters, Trini's a UN ambassador, Billy can't even talk about what he does for a living… seriously, it's like none of us could let the whole Ranger thing go. Even people we never would've pegged as ending up in this line of work," he added, shooting a knowing glance at Kim. When neither of his companions responded, he pressed a little harder and asked with a laugh, "Come on. Is that not the weirdest thing you've ever heard or what?"

Kim chuckled a little and Tommy shook his head at Jason's excited hyperbole. Holding out his hands and moving them up and down as though to pantomime a scale, he replied, "Hmmm. Let's see. Eight people out of a closely knit group of eleven who spent their adolescence risking their lives to save the world having jobs that all involve helping people or being offered magical alien superpowers by a giant floating head in a glass tube. Yeah, Jase, that is _definitely_ the weirdest thing I've ever heard."

Kim had dissolved into giggles at this point and struggled to say, "Though if you had told me eight years ago that this would be my life – or that Aisha would be a firefighter – I would probably have laughed in your face. I guess life experience really can change people."

"Heard that," Tommy agreed. "If someone had told teenage me that you and Jason would've ended up together, teenage me would've decked them. And only regretted it a little."

Jason grinned broadly at Tommy, about to break into laughter himself. "God it's great to talk to you again, bro," Jason said, clapping Tommy on the back with his free hand. "Kim's great and all, but she could never match your level of snark."

Kim gasped, clutching a hand to her chest in a mock display of hurt. "Well at least _I_ don't suffer from a chronic case of foot-in-mouth disease," she retorted, gesturing emphatically at Jason. "Seriously, sometimes I wonder if that filter between brain and mouth even _exists_ for you!"

"You may have a point there," Jason said with a chuckle, leading his wife and best friend down the right fork of a T-junction in the path. "Put my mouth and my temper together and I'm even worse than Rocky."

"And that's on a good day," Tommy put in, jabbing a finger in Jason's face. "I seem to remember Zordon repeatedly banning you from the Command Center because you couldn't go five minutes without one of us having to censor you."

"I don't need you to fucking tell me how fucking bad my language was, goddamnit!" Jason retorted – a little too loudly. Tommy watched as his friend grinned and let out a laugh that didn't quite reach his eyes and knew what he had said had struck a nerve. Then he saw the way Kim's eyes had widened, the way her hand had clamped around Jason's bicep, and physically flinched at the realization of what he'd just said. Zordon's death a few years back had hit all of them hard, but Jason...it had nearly killed him. Tommy remembered the way his friend had looked the first time he'd seen him afterwards – dazed, unshaven, his eyes bloodshot, slumped against the wall of Zack's living room and gazing blankly at the floor. And the look in his eyes – Tommy shuddered just thinking about it. Jason had looked so haunted, so…_defeated_, as though everything that had ever made him happy had been sucked out of him. Tommy didn't know for certain, and Jason had never said anything about it, but the number of empty vodka and whiskey bottles Tommy had seen in Jason's apartment spoke for themselves; the former Green Ranger had a disturbing suspicion that Jason had attempted suicide at least once in the six months after their mentor was destroyed.

Those months had been frighteningly touch-and-go; Jason, normally the calm, confident, outgoing guy they all saw as a big brother figure, became jumpy and withdrawn, refusing almost any human contact and only offering the occasional halfhearted grunt when forced into conversation. Pulling their friend and former leader back from the edge of the abyss had taken all ten of them the better part of a year, and even then their old mentor's name had become taboo in Jason's presence ever since. And Tommy had just referred to him twice in less than thirty seconds.

_Brilliant, Oliver. Just damn brilliant._

Now, Tommy watched as Jason's expression became distant and detached, staring blankly across the park at nothing in particular as the first real rays of sunlight illuminated the contours of his old friend's face.

"Shit, Jase, I'm sorry," Tommy said, leaning in and gripping Jason's shoulder. "I shouldn't have said that, I know how painful it still is for you." Jason didn't respond, just let out a long breath and kept his gaze fixed on some imaginary point in the distance. Kim rubbed Jason's back with her free hand, the other still clasped in his. She and Tommy shared a concerned glance before she gave him a soft smile.

"Don't worry about it," she said gently. "We both know you wouldn't do anything like that on purpose."

"Is he gonna be OK?" Tommy asked, as Jason continued to follow the path as if on autopilot. "I haven't seen him this way since…"

"I'm fine," Jason interjected, and Tommy broke eye contact with Kim to find Jason looking right at him. "I didn't mean to scare you guys. I've just been a little on edge lately, what with all the bullshit I've been putting up with –" Jason stopped abruptly and glanced around frantically, as though hoping his words had gone unheard. Tommy almost pressed the issue, but Kim pulled Jason to one side and started talking to him in hushed tones. Tommy stayed put, afraid to intrude on their private conversation, but kept both his ears trained on them. Just because he was too polite to invade his friends' personal space didn't put him above a little harmless eavesdropping.

Besides, Kim and Jason had apparently become professional whisperers after growing up leading double lives. Whatever they were talking about, though, must have been a very sore subject for both of them; Tommy had performed enough interrogations to recognize the body language of tension when he saw it. Despite his best efforts, though, Tommy was unable to form anything coherent out of the bits and pieces he caught; only one thing he picked up made any sense, which was when Kim put both her hands on Jason's shoulders and said, louder than she probably intended, "Jase, you have to tell him! You have to tell _someone_."

Tommy had no idea what Kim meant by that, but it must have been the absolute wrong thing to say. Before Tommy could react, Jason had grabbed twin fistfuls of Kim's jacket and slammed her against the nearest tree, screaming, "_I am not gonna fucking tell them!_"

Tommy's leg froze as he moved to intervene. Jason's behavior was shocking enough already, but his voice… something was _very_ wrong with his voice, something so disturbingly familiar that Tommy felt goosebumps cover his arms at the sound. Jason's already deep voice had dropped at least another octave, and he sounded like his throat had been filled with sandpaper, almost as if he were growling; he sounded like –

_Oh shit._

_"Come on, Ranger!" "NO! This one is mine!"_

In that moment, Tommy was back there, back in that cave watching his best friend go on a rampage as a powerful evil forced him to act out some kind of anger-fueled fever dream revenge fantasy. The memory paralyzed him for a long moment, his breath catching in his throat as he watched his best friend hold his wife against a tree, her legs thrashing futilely beneath her as she struggled against his vice grip. For all the times they'd fought each other to a draw, Tommy knew as far as sheer strength and power were concerned, Jason easily had him beat, even after all these years. There wouldn't be a whole lot he could do if Jason was like this for much longer.

Tommy's reverie was finally snapped when he heard Kim scream, in a voice choked by fear and Jason's grip, "Tommy! Get the fuck over here and do something!"

That was all it took. Tommy sprang into action, charging across the grass and grabbing Jason's right arm with both hands; digging his heels into the ground, Tommy leaned back, trying to leverage as much of his weight against Jason's elbow as he possibly could. Jason just shrugged him off, throwing Tommy back with no apparent effort on his part, and shot him a deadly glare.

"Back off," Jason growled, and Tommy felt a fresh wave of panic sweep over him at what he saw on his friend's face. Jason didn't even look like Jason anymore, his usually happy, calm face distorted into a visage of pure homicidal fury.

But his eyes were the worst of it. They were blazing red, so bright that even in the gradually brightening morning sunlight Tommy reflexively threw a hand up to avoid being blinded. He had seen Jason's eyes flash red briefly before; all of them had grown rather used to what they'd seen as just another side-effect of the Muranthias incident. But Tommy knew with a certainty that chilled him to the bone that this was far different. The person standing in front of him wore Jason's face, spoke with his (grotesquely distorted) voice, and probably possessed all of his formidable combat skills, but the Jason he'd grown up with, his brother in all but blood, was not in the driver's seat right now.

Pushing himself off the ground, Tommy rose shakily to his feet and advanced more slowly this time, approaching Jason the way he would a cornered animal. "Jason?" he said softly, his hands splayed in front of him to demonstrate that he meant no harm. Jason ignored him and leaned more of his weight against Kim, crushing her against the tree. Tommy saw Kim's lips beginning to turn blue, her struggles weakening, and spoke more boldly this time. "Jase, I know you're in there, buddy. This isn't you, man. I don't know what's making you act like this, but whatever it is, you have to fight it. Kim is your wife; for fuck's sake, you've known her since you were five. The Jason I know would never hurt her like this. Now let her go."

Jason turned, and Tommy could've sworn that the red glow had already begun to fade. Jason's face, however, was still twisted into that mask of rage, and he suddenly moved with inhuman speed, letting go with both hands and bending his left arm at the elbow, catching Kim by the shoulders and pinning her back against the tree with his forearm. Kim's renewed gasp for air heartened Tommy for a moment; from this position, Jason wasn't able to strangle her as effectively.

Then Jason did something that Tommy was entirely unprepared for. His right hand moved smoothly to the butt of his gun, still hanging in the shoulder holster, and he spoke to Tommy as though through clenched teeth. "Back. The _fuck_. Off." Jason's hand closed around the gun, and he lifted it halfway out of its holster. "Before I put one in your eye."

Kim chose that moment to windmill her arms forward, knocking Jason's arm away and dropping to the ground. Before Jason could move, Kim threw her arms around his neck and slammed her lips against his in a desperate kiss, tears streaming down her cheeks. Tommy took the opportunity to move in, slapping Jason's gun into the grass and grabbing his right arm, wrenching his friend's wrist behind his back. Kim pulled away, checking quickly to make sure the red glow was fading – it was, rapidly, the deep brown of Jason's eyes already discernible – and gave Tommy a quick nod. The latter moved sideways, stuck a leg out, and threw Jason backwards over his knee, the man in red ending up flat on his back on the grass, Tommy's knee planted on his sternum. While Tommy held his thrashing friend in place, Kim darted over and put her face right next to her husband's, gripping his face in her hands and speaking softly into his ear. This time Tommy didn't even try to listen in; this seemed personal.

After a very long, very tense moment, Kim sat up, and Tommy finally saw the Jason he recognized looking back at him, his eyes brimming with guilt and unspoken apologies. Tommy fell back onto his ass and sat there panting, resting his arms on his knees. Glancing back and forth from Kim to Jason – who still lay prone on the grass, breathing hard, beads of sweat beginning to glisten on his forehead – he finally found his voice. "One of you wanna tell me what the fuck just happened?"

Jason sighed, his breath hitching in a way that made Tommy feel like a bit of a dick, even as the image of Kim gasping desperately for air flashed through his mind's eye. Staring at the sky, as though he couldn't bring himself to look Tommy in the eye, Jason finally answered, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm so sorry, Tommy. I should've told you about this a long time ago."

Tommy's only response was a confused look. Jason ran a hand over his face and muttered, "Son of a bitch," before rising to a seated position and supporting himself on his elbows, casting a sidelong glance Tommy's way. After a long silence he spoke again.

"When we get back, you should probably start getting in contact with the others. I've got a lot to fill you guys in on."


	7. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** Power Rangers is property of Saban. I only own the stuff that was never lucky enough to share the screen with them.

**A/N: **Can you guys believe this show is turning 20 at Comic-Con? TWENTY YEARS OLD. As a 90's kid, I officially feel old for the first time. Anyway, I was really hoping to have this chapter out on the day the story takes place but the Internet and the universe conspired against me. Oh well. On a more exciting note, this chapter begins the entrances of other Rangers besides what I've dubbed "The Big 3." Hooray!

On a totally unrelated note, I've been watching the old episodes again (Netflix is the greatest thing ever.) and I've noticed a couple things that escaped me as a kid. First of all, this show was WAY more pop-culture literate than I'd ever realized. Just through the end of Zeo, I've found references to Pulp Fiction, the A-Team, the Wizard of Oz, Star Wars, Star Trek, Bill Clinton, a novel called _The Spy Who Came In From the Cold_, Patrick Swayze and Gene Kelly, just to name a few. This show was much more clever than we ever gave it credit for.

Second, I'm taking a stand: every character on this show is more fun to watch when they're evil. Cases in point: The entire original team in "A Bad Reflection on You," (How creepy was it seeing someone besides Tommy evil for the first time?) Tommy in the Green With Evil episodes (duh), Kat in "The Changing of the Zords," Billy in "Blue Ranger Gone Bad," and let's not forget that in the Turbo movie, Jason and Kim are evil for all of about six minutes and it makes the entire movie. Now granted, it's always a foregone conclusion that nobody stays evil permanently, but can you imagine a Turbo season where the main villain was...Evil Jason? I'll just let that sink in for a second.

OK, enough rambling. Back to the action!

* * *

**In Transit  
****Angel Grove, CA  
****July 10, 2012  
****7:30 AM**

"_I think we're in trouble. He's breaking out the leader voice."_

As Jason's fingers closed around the door handle of his truck, he heard Tommy and Kim inside, engaged in a hushed but heated argument. As the ranking authority on the case, Jason had been selected by the others to handle the task of bringing the necessary AGPD personnel up to speed while Tommy oversaw the transfer of the corpse to the morgue and Kim checked back in with Foster. While the reasoning behind Tommy and Kim's insistence that Jason be the one who got the most complicated and time-consuming job made sense on a rational level, in the back of his mind the former Red Ranger couldn't help the sneaking suspicion that the two of them shared an ulterior motive.

Now, as he stood silently outside his truck, he began to pick up on what the two of them were saying; pressing his ear against the door, he rolled his eyes when he realized they were arguing about him.

"There's absolutely no way we can disappear from work for six hours today just so Jason can gather everybody together and tell them something that won't have changed by tomorrow," Tommy whispered insistently. From the sound of his voice, Jason placed him in the backseat.

"Jason's been working this thing for seven months now, Tommy," Kim replied from the front passenger seat. Her tone was annoyed, as though this was a point she was tired of making. "He – and by extension, we – can afford to take half a day off. Also, and I can't stress this enough, he tried to _fucking kill me_ half an hour ago. Way I see it we're pretty much obligated at this point."

"Kim, as much as I hate to remind you, we're not Rangers anymore," Tommy said, speaking to her like he was desperate to make a point. "We can't keep running out on our responsibilities with no explanation for the rest of our lives. Our jobs are too important to other people's safety to just ignore them at the drop of a hat. You and Jason need to find some professional help and stop trying to make this out to be something worse than it is."

"You know, I would've thought you of all people would recognize the residual effects of evil brainwashing when you saw them," Kim countered. "It's not like I can just search WebMD for 'glowing red eyes' and 'random spurts of homicidal behavior.'"

"I'm not a doctor, Kim," Tommy said as Jason slowly straightened and prepared to cut in. "But think about it. We know his eyes have glowed red every now and then since Muranthias and we know what Zordon's death did to him. Dipshit that I am, I brought that whole thing up again, and he's probably really stressed from the case and he just…I don't know, he lost it."

Jason let out a bitter chuckle and rolled his eyes again.

_ Damn I hate being right all the time._

He stepped forward and threw the door open. Tommy and Kim whipped around at the sound, gaping at him openmouthed like he'd just walked in on them robbing a liquor store. Jason just glared at them for a moment, not saying a word, as the two of them searched frantically for the right thing to say. Finally Tommy cracked a timid half-smile and said, "Didn't your mother ever teach you not to eavesdrop?"

"Did yours ever teach you to trust your best friend?"

Tommy opened his mouth to respond but Jason never gave him the chance. "I heard what you said to Kim, Tommy. I would've thought with your head that far up your ass you would've smelled your own bullshit by now."

"Jason, you've got this all wrong," Tommy said, leaning forward and putting one hand on the back of the seat. "I never accused you of lying or anything like that; I was just telling Kim that I think you two are scared by this and so you're blowing things out of proportion. Not like I can blame you either – I was there and I was scared shitless – but in case you haven't noticed, we have more important things to flake out on now than parties or martial arts classes. I just really don't think we can put our lives on hold for this."

"What part of the fact that Jason, my husband, your best friend, just tried to kill me hasn't gotten through your head yet?" Kim demanded, throwing Tommy a glare and gesturing emphatically at Jason. "We have no idea when he might have another episode like that, and the only people who know enough about this to help him are the rest of the former Rangers. Now look," she continued, gesturing at her purse, which held her phone. "I can call in and tell your boss and ours that we need to go back to our place so Jason can collect his files on the case. The others all live close by; if we tell them it's an emergency they should get here in plenty of time to get this all taken care of in a few hours. Is that all right with you or does Jason have to go all Jekyll and Hyde on us again?"

Tommy looked down, and for the first time Jason saw the fear in his eyes. He reached out and put a hand on Tommy's shoulder. When Tommy looked up, Jason looked him straight in the eye and spoke softly, in a tone he hadn't used since they'd been Rangers together. "Who are you trying to convince that this is no big deal, bro? Us? Or yourself?"

Tommy sighed, an involuntary shudder running through his body. When he spoke, it was like each word was a monumental effort. "I didn't want to believe it, Jase, but…god, hearing your voice like that again, the look on your face…" Tommy glanced away from Jason, looking as though he was trying to hold back tears. "I was back there again, man. Back on Muranthias, watching you and Kim attack our friends, and…it felt _real_ again." Tommy leaned back against the seat and ran a hand through his hair.

Jason climbed into the seat, pulled the door shut, and started the car before turning to look at Tommy again. "Welcome to the last six years of my life, bro."

They sat in silence for a moment, Jason letting the truck idle. Finally Tommy ran a hand over his face and said as forcefully as he could, "We get chewed out for this it's gonna be both your asses."

Jason looked at Kim with an amused gleam in his eye. "I think we're in trouble. He's breaking out the leader voice."

"You forget, Tommy," Kim said, turning to him and grinning. "You're talking to the only two people in the world who are entirely unfazed by your fearless leader routine."

Jason smiled and put the truck in reverse. "Right," he said as he backed out of the parking space. He cleared his throat and spoke with all the (considerable) authority he could muster. "Now cut the bullshit, Oliver. We've got work to do."

Tommy raised an eyebrow. Even after all these years, when Jason spoke like that he still felt this instinctive urge to leap into action. "God damn but you're good at that."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, o living legend," Jason replied with a wink. He turned and nodded to Kim. "I think you have a phone call to make." As Kim went to retrieve her phone, Jason turned back to Tommy. "You still have everyone's numbers, right?"

Tommy stared at them for a moment before slowly pulling his phone out of his pocket and staring at it as though it had just started dancing. "What the hell am I supposed to say? An hour ago we had all moved on with our lives and now I'm about to drag everybody back in."

"I'd suggest calling Kat first," Kim piped up, pausing her dialing to turn and glance at Tommy, any sign of contempt from before replaced by sympathy. "Consider her your practice run. Besides, maybe if you're _real_ nice she'll call some of the others for you and save you some trouble."

"Why do we have to get everyone at once, anyway, Jase?" Tommy asked, tapping his phone screen nervously. "Can't we just let them all know over the phone?"

Jason laughed softly – there wasn't a trace of humor in it. "Believe me, Tommy, I didn't want to pull them into this either, but Kim's right. After I…" he gestured vaguely out the windshield at the park. "After what I just did, I realized how big an idiot I've been. Whatever's happening to me, it's clearly dangerous, and not just to me. I'm gonna need all the help I can get." Jason paused and glanced in the rearview mirror to see Tommy still staring back at him, a question in his eyes. Jason sighed and added, "Also, I'm about to unload some epically fucked up shit on you guys. I would _really_ rather not repeat myself."

* * *

**Oliver Residence  
****Angel Grove, CA  
****July 10, 2012  
****7:45 AM**

The gentle tones of "Fur Elise" ringing out through the dimly lit bedroom brought Katherine Hillard, soon to be Mrs. Kat Oliver, out of a heavy sleep. Blinking in protest at the room around her, Kat allowed herself to come to her senses for a moment; as she did so, her surroundings began to slowly drift back into focus. She lay sprawled down the middle of the queen-size bed she usually shared with Tommy, her face pressed into the divide between the pillows. Her left arm lay flat against her side; her right was stretched out across the pillow in front of her so that her fingers dangled over the side of the bed, brushing against the cool, smooth wood of the nightstand on which her phone sat, its screen shining excitedly.

Kat let out a frustrated moan and shoved her face deeper into the pillow, silently begging the phone to just shut up and leave her alone. She would be given no such mercy: the music ceased abruptly, allowing her only a moment or two of blissful silence before resuming the summons.

"Bloody hell," Kat sighed into her pillow, pushing herself up onto her elbows and popping her eyes back open. "Someone better be bloody dying, or so help me god," she muttered to herself as she threw the sheet off and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Plucking the phone from the nightstand, she frowned at the sight of her fiancé's name. "OK, that goes double for you." Tommy knew she didn't have to be at the dance studio until nine, and she was a girl who liked her sleep; if it was denied her without damn good reason, she was not someone you wanted to be around.

Suddenly, as she stared at the phone, Kat felt a small feeling of concern begin to creep over her. Tommy was out on patrol this morning. He'd left at 2 AM for the graveyard shift. There was no reason she could think of for him calling her right now that she liked. Bracing herself, Kat hit the button to answer and brought the phone to her ear, nervously tapping one foot on the hardwood floor of the bedroom.

"Persistent, aren't you?" Kat said in lieu of hello, gripping the edge of the mattress with her right hand as she tried to keep her voice as even as she could. "You couldn't've just left a message?"

"No, babe. Sorry. Not about this."

Any relief Kat felt at hearing Tommy's voice on the other end and not another officer informing her of his gruesome fate was quickly replaced by a fresh wave of worry at his tone. He sounded…well, for lack of a better word, Kat thought he sounded _terrified_. She hadn't heard him talk that way since the two of them had spent the majority of their free time in rainbow spandex piloting giant robots.

"Tommy?" she asked after he went quiet. Still getting no response, she spoke again, her voice tinged with anxiety. "Love, what's wrong? What happened? Where are you?" The questions tumbled out of her mouth, her brain unable to filter itself as her level of worry steadily grew.

Tommy sighed into the phone and answered her last question first. "I'm in Jason's car with him and Kim right now. We're on the way back from the park. Kat…"

She cut him off. "Wait a minute, what? Why are you with Jason and Kim? I thought you were on patrol this morning."

"Long story. I'll explain everything later, I promise. Right now, though, I need to ask you a huge favor."

Kat swallowed and furrowed her brow, staring fixedly at the baseboard in the wall across the room as she held the phone to her ear, becoming more and more worried – and confused – at Tommy's overly cryptic non-answers. "Um…OK. What's that?"

There was a moment of silence on the other end. Kat thought she heard another voice, deeper than Tommy's and further off, telling someone, "Just tell her already. We don't have time for this." _Is that Jason? Why is he in such a hurry? What the hell is Tommy not telling me? More importantly, why does he sound so freaked out?_

Finally Tommy's voice broke back into her thoughts again. "Jason and Kim are calling for an emergency meeting at their place in," he paused. "Two hours. I know this sounds crazy, and you probably have a million questions-"

"You have no bloody idea," she cut in, standing and starting to pace, her footsteps echoing off the walls of the quiet room.

"But right now I just need you to trust me," he finished before she could say more. When she stayed silent, he continued. "You should probably call the studio and get someone to cover the morning for you and Zack. What Jase and Kim need to tell us may take a while. Then I would really appreciate it if you could call Billy, Trini and Tanya for me and let them know. I'm calling Rocky and Aisha as soon as I hang up with you, and the others after that. Can you do that for me, sweetheart? Please?"

Kat didn't reply for a moment. _Is he completely insane?_ She thought, continuing to wander aimlessly around their bedroom, gnawing absently on a thumbnail. What was she supposed to say? _"Oh, hey, sorry to wake you up, but there's this really important thing happening that I can't tell you anything about and you really just need to drop all your plans and meet at Kim and Jason's place, no questions asked. Sound good? Awesome."_ Yeah. That would go over well.

"Tommy," Kat began again, the frustration now evident behind her soft Australian accent. "This is really not a good position you're putting me in here. Tanya's only going to be in town for another couple of weeks before her tour kicks off and she's on the road for three months. Trini has been swamped with work for months with no reprieve – not to mention she just got home from Malawi last week – and has barely managed to get enough sleep to maintain her sanity. Do you really want me to be the one to intrude on that? I sure as hell don't."

"Kat." Tommy spoke so softly she almost didn't hear him. "Believe me when I tell you that I hate this just as much as you do. I even tried to talk Jase and Kim out of it, but you know how they can get; besides, apparently what they need to tell us has been a _very_ long time coming. And trust me, this is extremely important. If you had seen what I just saw…" Tommy trailed off and took a minute before speaking again. "Anyway, I tried to give you the easier part of the call list – you aren't gonna be waking up three firefighters who could burn your house down whenever they wanted and make it look like an accident."

"They do and it's your ass," she warned, hoping she didn't sound as genuinely angry to him as she did to herself. His soft laugh told her she hadn't, and she allowed the faintest trace of a smile to creep onto her face as she held her bare left foot under a patch of sunlight not blocked by the curtains. The warmth felt good, served to alleviate a bit of the frightened chill that had descended on her during the conversation. Kat reached up and slowly pulled the curtain back, flooding the room with early morning sunlight. She sighed and spoke again, leaning against the windowsill and gazing out at the quiet street as she did so. "All right, fine. You just tell Jason that whatever this is had better be good or he's gonna have about a dozen pissed off former superheroes coming after him in full on torch-and-pitchfork mode."

Tommy laughed more heartily this time, and Kat grinned despite herself. "Will do," he said, his smile still audible. "Thank you so much for this, baby. Oh, and Kat?" He managed to catch her just as she was about to hang up.

"Yes?"

"I love you."

"I love you too, Tommy. Give Jason a smack upside the head for waking me up."

"You got it," he replied, laughing again. "See you in a few hours."

"Right." Kat ended the call and flopped back down on the edge of her bed. She desperately wanted a shower, and she still wasn't entirely awake, but if this was as important as Tommy said, she didn't have a whole lot of time for waiting. Groaning, she looked across the room, her eyes falling on a picture that hung prominently on the wall near the bedroom door. It was a group photo of all eleven former Rangers the first time they'd all been together. They sat outside the Youth Center on a picnic table; Kim, Kat, Trini and Aisha sat on the bench, beaming and waving at the camera. Behind them, Rocky, Jason, Tommy and Zack stood on top of the table, holding Tanya, who lay sprawled on their outstretched arms, posing like a lingerie model. Rocky and Zack had managed normal smiles; just before the camera had flashed, however, Jason and Tommy had dissolved into violent laughter at the success of their pose, their faces contorted with ecstasy. Adam and Billy leaned against either side of the table, Billy with a hand on Kim's shoulder, Adam with one on Aisha's.

Kat smiled wistfully at the photo before tapping the speed dial button for her dance studio and bringing the phone back to her ear. Before anyone could answer, she muttered to the picture under her breath. "God, those two are gonna owe me _so big_ for this."


	8. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** Don't own anything that was ever on TV.

**A/N: **Not much to say this time. Thanks for reading, reviewing, following and just being awesome. In case it's confused anyone, the quotes in italics at the start of each chapter aren't actually part of the chapter - think of them as unofficial chapter titles. They will always be quotes from that particular chapter; I've seen some TV shows that name their episodes after dialogue in each episode and liked the idea.

* * *

**Unknown Location  
****July 10, 2012  
****8:00 AM**

"_Fuck you too, Rob Thomas."_

Rocky DeSantos pressed his back against the dirty concrete wall behind him, panting as he scanned the surrounding windows for any sign of hostiles. The sunlight was harsh, unforgiving, illuminating every patch of sand that glistened with red and every discarded shell casing that littered the ground around him. His gear had begun to feel very heavy on his body, clinging to his skin through a layer of thick perspiration.

Squinting against the bright light, Rocky hoisted his weapon, the heavy object feeling foreign and awkward in his inexperienced hands, and leaned carefully around the corner. There was a loud report, and he jerked back behind the wall as a trio of bullets tore a small chunk out of the concrete he hid behind.

"Shit," he whispered, checking to ensure his weapon was ready. Suddenly he heard multiple sets of footsteps echoing off the shattered asphalt of the street, closing in fast. He glanced around quickly, seeking his next potential cover. The street was dotted with burned-out shells of cars and pockmarked with holes from bombs and bullets. Rocky pulled himself slowly off the ground and braced his weight against the wall with his feet, preparing to bolt at a moment's notice. His hands began to sweat against the hot metal of the weapon, his finger slipping dangerously close to the trigger.

_Where's a Blade Blaster when you need one?_ He thought as he exhaled slowly through his teeth and counted silently down from three. When he reached one, he launched himself to his feet and whirled on his opponent, firing a few bursts in the direction he thought the footsteps had come from before darting out from behind the wall and racing down the street, diving behind a burning car and craning his ears for any sign of return fire. When none came, he let out a relieved sigh and climbed shakily to his feet, peering down the sidewalk for a doorway he could use for cover. He saw one, maybe thirty feet away, wide open and swinging lazily on its hinges. The wood was chipped from gunfire, the glass of the storefront window shattered and splayed out on the asphalt.

Moving more slowly this time, Rocky crept forward, easing out from behind the car. Before he could react he felt something cold pressed against his right temple. He froze, a bead of nervous sweat trickling down his neck. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a figure standing to his right, wearing gear very similar to his own. The figure smiled and softly spoke two words.

"I win."

He fired. Blood sprayed onto the boarded up windows of the storefront as Rocky's body crumpled to the ground, his weapon clattering on the pavement. His killer stood over him a moment longer, smiling gently, before the world began to fade to black and the words "Game Over" flashed on the screen.

"God damn it, Adam!" Rocky exclaimed, rocking forward in his seat and slamming his controller down into his lap. "You never would've beaten me if you didn't insist on camping like some twelve-year-old bitch!"

Adam Park grinned at Rocky from the couch across the room. He lay stretched out on his back, his crossed legs resting on one arm of the couch, his head on the other. "Perfectly legit strategy, dude. You're just pissed because that's six games in a row I've won." He set his controller on his chest and stretched his arms out before folding his hands behind his head.

Rocky snorted. "There's nothing 'legit' about playing with a strategy you learned from your nine-year-old cousin."

Adam just kept on grinning at the ceiling. "You conveniently forgot to mention that Troy kicked both our asses last time we played with him." He shrugged. "Don't hate the player, hate the game."

"Says the guy who uses a Fathead of Tim Tebow as a dartboard."

"That is entirely beside the point."

"Since the point was to make you look like a hypocrite, I'd say that fact is right on top of the point; probably dry humping it and about to finish."

"OK, now I _know_ you haven't had enough sleep. You'd never have to stretch that far for a sex joke otherwise."

Rocky didn't respond to that, just blew out a frustrated breath and flopped back against the back of his chair, letting the controller rest on his lap. The two of them sat in Rocky and Aisha's living room, where they'd been since 4 or so in the morning. Adam's apartment building was being fumigated, so he'd been using the guest room here for the last week; Rocky had decided to make it into an extended, more mature version of the countless sleepovers the three of them had had over the years. That apparently included a few late-night rounds of _Call of Duty_ as a (failed) insomnia remedy. OK, maybe it wasn't _that_ much more mature, but at least the graphics had improved.

Rocky leaned his head back and closed his eyes, trying to think of a witty retort, when the opening notes of "Unwell" began to echo through the room. Rocky put a hand over his face, trying to convince himself that he was hearing things.

"Dude. Phone's ringing." Adam's voice practically dripped with smugness.

"Fuck you very much," Rocky groaned, sitting up slowly and heaving himself to his feet. Scratching his thigh absentmindedly, he crossed the carpeted room and climbed a single step up onto the hardwood floor that ran from the entryway into the kitchen. His phone sat on the kitchen counter, where he'd abandoned it after he'd come home yesterday. The music gave way to Rob Thomas' voice as Rocky tread softly across the hard floor, its smooth surface cold against his bare feet. As he reached the counter and braced himself against the granite surface, the song abruptly stopped. Rocky dropped his head and sighed loudly, leaning against the island with both hands.

"You know," another voice said from the hallway, and Rocky's head snapped up to behold Aisha Campbell-DeSantos, in a bright yellow bathrobe, standing where the hallway met the hardwood floor, arms crossed over her chest. Her posture screamed annoyance. "Most people given their first day off in more than three months from pulling people out of burning buildings would probably spend some of it sleeping." On the couch, Adam had sat up and was turning the Xbox off, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand as he did so.

"We got some sleep," he said, dropping the controller and switching off the flat screen TV with the nearby remote. "Only been up since four. You'd be surprised how many people are online at this hour."

"Bullshit," Aisha retorted. Rocky turned his body to face her and was about to respond when the music started again. He glanced down at the screen and checked the caller ID. Rolling his eyes and leaning on the counter again, Rocky picked up the phone.

"Fuck you too, Rob Thomas," he muttered under his breath before he brought the phone to his ear, vaguely hearing Adam and Aisha continuing to argue in the background. "Yeah?"

"Rocky?"

"What the hell do you want?"

"There's something I need to tell you."

* * *

**DeSantos Residence  
****Angel Grove, CA  
****July 10, 2012  
****8:10 AM**

Aisha glared at Adam, tapping a foot impatiently on the hardwood floor as she watched him pick at his dark green T-shirt distractedly. He was looking everywhere except at her, his expression unreadable as always. Behind him, Rocky stood at the island in the kitchen wearing nothing but a red T-shirt and blue boxers, his back to her, speaking quietly into the phone. She didn't know who he was talking to, but the way he gestured heatedly with every sentence told her it was either an unwanted caller or bad news.

"You two didn't really get any sleep at all last night, did you?" She asked again, her tone implying that she already knew the answer. Adam finally looked up at her, his face completely serene.

"I did," he said calmly, resting his hands on his knees. "I went to bed about one. Rock woke me up at four because he couldn't sleep and we thought if we did something mindless long enough he'd just nod off like he always does."

"And you never thought to ask him why he couldn't sleep or whether anything was wrong?" Aisha was barely restraining herself from shouting at this point. Adam's nonchalance about the whole thing was only making her angrier, and she knew he knew it.

"Of course I did. He just said it was insomnia. Not exactly an extreme diagnosis, Sha. So I humored him, let him occupy his mind with something else. What was I supposed to do, hand him a glass of Coke with two crushed up Ambien in it?"

"If it got him to sleep!" She shot back, uncrossing her arms and stepping down onto the carpet of the living room. "You weren't here last time we got a week off, Adam. I don't know if he would've slept that entire time if I hadn't snuck him some sleeping pills." Adam's eyes widened, but she shot down his question in midair. "I know it was sleazy and underhanded but…god, you should've seen him. It was like it was right after he lost his powers. You remember that?"

He leveled his gaze at her. "I'm surprised you do, considering you weren't even on this continent."

Aisha closed her eyes and gripped the bridge of her nose. "Jesus Christ, Adam, do you really think Kim didn't update me every half hour about what went on here? If anybody could find a way to get me that information, it was her. Anyway, you were there, as you so helpfully pointed out. You saw how bad he was."

Adam swallowed, nodded slowly. Rocky had been a mess for a while after his powers were taken away, no matter how hard he'd tried to hide it. It was almost as bad as Jason had been after Zordon; Rocky hadn't slept, had shown no interest in food (which frightened everybody more than they cared to admit) and appeared to become entirely apathetic toward the outside world. To Adam it had seemed like without his identity as a Power Ranger, as a protector, a defender of innocent lives, Rocky had seen nothing left in life to make it worth living. All of them had felt it, to some degree. Once you felt a sense of duty, a sense of purpose like that, it wasn't easy to give it up. Finding places in the Angel Grove Fire Department had been a godsend. Without it, Adam shuddered to think of what Rocky might have resorted to. Clearing his throat, he blinked a few times to clear his head and spoke again.

"Aisha, I know you're worried, and you have every right to be, but…" Adam glanced over his shoulder at Rocky, who was still engaged in his phone conversation. Lowering his voice, he turned back and continued. "This is only our first night off. Are you sure you aren't jumping to conclusions? This could very well be just typical, garden variety insomnia. I don't want you to worry over nothing."

Aisha came dangerously close to snapping at Adam at this, but at the last second his words began to make a kind of sense. Hadn't Rocky been doing significantly better over the last few months? His inability to sleep appeared to be the only remaining symptom this time. Could all this just be a coincidence?

She didn't have time to ponder the issue further. Rocky tossed his phone back onto the counter, where it clattered to a facedown position. He turned to face the two of them; Adam vaulted over the couch and leaned against it from behind. Glancing back and forth between his best friend and his wife, Rocky groaned and ran a hand through his hair. "That was Tommy," he said. "Jason and Kim have called an emergency former Ranger meeting at their place at ten. What time is it now?" He asked, suddenly realizing he'd lost track.

"Just after eight," Aisha responded. "He say anything about what happened? I'd figure the three of them would never run out on their jobs unless it was extremely important."

"That's about all I could get out of him," Rocky said. "That it was extremely important and that we needed to be there in two hours. He sounded pretty shaken up." Adam and Aisha stared back at him, bewildered looks on their faces. "Don't ask me anything else cause that's all I know. Tommy just swore up and down that Jason would explain everything when we got there."

Aisha whistled softly through her teeth and put her hands on her hips. "Really not how I planned on spending my first day off."

"Yeah, me neither, but you know those three," Adam put in, his posture remaining casual, peaceful. "If they say it's important I see no reason not to trust their judgment."

"All right, then. Let's go." Rocky grabbed his phone again and strode out of the kitchen and across the entryway to the front door, grabbing his keys off a hook on the wall.

"Rocky," Aisha said. "Shower."

"Took one. 3 AM. Thought it might help me sleep. Clearly I was wrong." Rocky reached for the doorknob as Adam spoke up, an amused smirk creeping over his face.

"Rocky. Pants."

Aisha put a hand to her mouth and giggled as Rocky looked down at himself and smiled sheepishly. "Right. Sorry."

"We have two hours, babe. Jase and Kim only live five miles from here," Aisha said gently. "No need to rush."

Before the words were even out of her mouth, Rocky was moving past her down the hallway toward their bedroom. "Hey Sha?" He called from inside. "Would you mind making some pancakes or something? I'm starving."

"Sure, hon. Anything else you want?"

"Maybe some hash browns while you're at it. Oh, and scrambled eggs. And bacon! Don't forget bacon."

Aisha smiled and shook her head, moving past Adam into the kitchen. As she did so, Adam looked up at her, a triumphant grin lighting up his face.

"Oh yeah," he said as he moved to help her. "He'll be fine."

* * *

**Pink Ivory Dance Studio  
****Angel Grove, CA  
****July 10, 2012  
****8:00 AM**

Zack Taylor had just inserted his key into the lock on the front door of Pink Ivory Dance Studio when he heard the office phone ringing from within the building. Startled by the sound, he stopped in mid-motion, the key half turned in the lock. Frowning, he peered into the dark interior of the studio for a moment as though he expected to see someone appear from the shadows to answer the call. Zack's reverie was quickly broken by footsteps scraping on the pavement behind him. As he turned to acknowledge them, his companion cocked her head at him and slowed to a halt in front of the entrance to the studio, which towered above them, a three story structure of dark metal and tinted glass.

"Something wrong?" Tanya Sloan smiled at Zack over a pair of designer sunglasses, crossing her arms over the front of her bright yellow tank top. He didn't reply for a moment, staring at the glass door, his hand still on the key. "Zack?"

"Shhh!" He held up a hand and pressed his ear against the door. "You hear that?"

Tanya pressed her ear to the door as well, the two of them listening quietly for a moment. The morning was crystal clear and practically silent; the only sounds the soft chirping of a nearby songbird and the distant hum of the morning traffic on the highway. After a moment, Tanya frowned and said, "I think I hear the phone ringing. So what?"

"No one ever calls this early," Zack replied, pushing the door open and holding it for her. Tanya hesitated for a moment before walking past him into the studio. The building had no lobby; the front doors opened directly into an enormous open room, mats spread out on the floor, a massive stereo system set up against the far wall. Off to the sides of this main room were doors and hallways which led to locker rooms, smaller practice rooms, a single soundproof room for private lessons, and the offices. Zack let the door swing shut behind him and followed Tanya across the expanse to the thick wooden door that opened on his office. "The place ain't even open yet, won't be for another hour. Why the hell would anyone need to…?"

Zack let the thought hang and let himself into the office, darting forward and snatching the phone off the desk. Foregoing the traditional professional greeting – "Pink Ivory Dance Studio, this is Zack, yadda yadda yadda" – he settled for "Yes?"

Tanya stood leaning on the doorway, frowning as Zack's expression went from curiosity to surprise to confusion in the space of a millisecond. She stepped forward into the office, about to ask what the problem was, but his next words stopped her cold.

"Kat? …I could ask you the same thing. I'm here with Tanya, we were gonna go through some choreography for her tour before the studio opened this morning." He looked up at her and she mouthed the word _What?_ Zack just shrugged and shook his head before saying, "Yeah, she's right here. I'll put you on speaker."

Zack hit a button and set the handset down on his desk. Tanya just stared at it, unsure of whether she should say anything. After a moment, a slightly muffled version of Kat Hillard's soft Australian lilt emanated from the device, filling the small room they stood in.

"Good morning, Tanya."

"Hey Kat," Tanya replied, waving a little at the phone as though Kat could see her. "What's up? Isn't this a little early for you?"

"It's a lot early for me," Kat said. "But this is rather important, I'm told." Zack and Tanya exchanged a look as Kat continued. "Tommy called me about ten minutes ago. Apparently, Jason and Kimberly have called an emergency meeting. They're asking everyone in our group to meet at their place at ten. I was calling here to find someone to cover for Zack and me for the day. Lucky for me I got you two instead – saves me two extra phone calls."

Zack leaned forward onto the desk, pressing his palms onto the smooth wood. "What happened? Is everything OK?"

"As far as I know. Tommy was irritatingly cryptic."

"He didn't tell you _anything_?" Tanya asked incredulously, folding her arms over her chest again. "That doesn't sound like the Tommy I know."

"Believe me, it's not the Tommy any of us know," Kat sighed, and Zack narrowed his eyes at the phone, a small chill running down his back as the gravity of Kat's words began to sink in. "He sounded so strange, Tan, I haven't heard him use that tone since…_the old days_." They had decided they would keep mentions of their Ranger days coded over the phone and especially on the Internet, just in case anyone was watching or listening. "He sounded really shaken up, and he said something about how I would understand better if I'd seen what he saw…I'm not sure I want to know what he was talking about."

Zack's twinge of worry had grown into a full-on, gnawing anxiety, verging on panic, and he voiced the concern that had taken root in the back of his mind. "Something happened to Jase or Kim, didn't it?"

"Zack, I just told you I don't know anything else. I heard Jason's voice in the background and he sounded fine, if that helps at all. Anyway, I still have to call Trini and Billy. See you guys in two hours."

There was a soft click as Kat hung up. Zack stood rigid, his hands balling into fists. Tanya reached out and laid a gentle hand on his arm; when he turned to face her, she flashed her warmest smile and said, "I'm sure Jason's fine, Zack. We both know how well he and Kim can take care of themselves. Now should we leave now or do you want to wait until somebody else arrives to watch the studio?"

"No, we should probably go so I can change. I won't get that shower I was planning on at this rate," Zack said, gesturing at the ratty black tank top and grey sweats he'd arrived in. He bent to write a quick note for the normal opening crew when they arrived; as he went to tape it to the wall, he suddenly glanced up at Tanya, his face darkening. "Are you sure you want to go to this thing at all? You and Adam haven't been in the same place very much since you broke it off and…"

"And we decided our friendship was too special to ruin with an ugly breakup," Tanya finished for him. "It's been three years since we split, and in that time Adam and I haven't said one unkind thing to each other. I'll be fine, I promise. Besides," she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek, giggling a little at the way his eyes lit up. "Maybe now we can finally announce our couple status as official."

He grinned and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, walking her out of the office and across the main room to the front door. "Well, when you put it that way."

"We do have two hours, you know," Tanya said abruptly as they pushed through the front door and Zack turned back to lock it. "Maybe we can squeeze that shower in after all."

Zack gaped at her, at a complete loss for words for a long moment. Finally he seemed to recover and breathed, "Well this day just keeps getting better and better." The two of them jogged across the bright, empty parking lot to Zack's black Jeep and swung themselves into the seats.

As they were pulling out, Tanya's cell phone began ringing, filling the car with Alicia Keys' voice. Glancing at the caller ID, Tanya chuckled a little and muttered, "Unbelievable. I know it's early but still…" She brought the phone to her ear. "Miss me already?"

"Hey Tan," Kat said, all business. "I'm having no luck getting hold of Trini. Can you and Zack swing by her place on your way over? I just want to make sure she gets the news."

"Sure, no problem," Tanya said, as much fake cheerfulness in her voice as she could fit.

"Thanks," Kat said before promptly hanging up again. Tanya brought the phone away from her ear and stared at it for a moment.

"Nice talking to you, too," she muttered before turning to Zack and filling him in on the change of plans.

"Damn it," he sighed, smacking the steering wheel with one hand. "Only Trini could cock block me without even being here."


	9. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: **Power Rangers belongs to Saban. The song lyrics in this chapter are taken from "The Dirt Whispered" by Rise Against. The other songs referenced are by Michael Jackson (don't believe me? Google it.) and Scary Kids Scaring Kids.

**A/N: ** Sorry about the delay - real life and internet issues can be a real pain in the ass sometimes. Anyway, thanks to everyone who's read, reviewed, followed, favorited, etc. It really does mean a lot. Now, as the Rangers would say: "Back to action!"

* * *

**Scott Residence  
****July 10, 2012  
****9:25 AM**

"_It's your choice, Jason. Make it." _

Kim sat at her kitchen table, her head propped up on her hands, staring out the window at the small backyard behind the house. Early morning sunlight filtered through the bay window, casting elongated shadows along the hardwood floor of the small kitchen area. Closing her eyes, Kim let out a long, slow breath and ran a hand gently over the large, ugly bruise that ran across her upper chest from one shoulder to the other. In the two hours since the incident in the park, the wound had turned an angry yellow color and the entire area was still tender.

Opening her eyes, Kim stared blankly at the faux wood grain of the table, letting herself get lost in the sounds around her. In the connected living room, Tommy was pacing back and forth, no doubt trying to calm himself down. He'd been almost visibly shaking when they'd arrived at the house, his face growing more and more pale, and had immediately locked himself in the bathroom for several minutes. Kim felt a disturbing certainty that he'd been in there throwing up.

Jason, on the other hand, had changed clothes and disappeared into the basement. Loud music now drifted up to her from down there, the pounding bass and driving guitar undoubtedly fueling what she imagined was an intense workout; she felt sorry for the punching bag.

Groaning, Kim rose slowly to her feet and crept past the living room to the top of the basement stairs. Tommy didn't even notice her, just continued pacing across the carpeted floor, staring off into space. She considered stopping him and suggesting he call Kat again, but the thought occurred to her that all that might do was start an argument that she really didn't want to be responsible for.

As she made her way down the stairs, she realized that the music she'd thought would be loud from upstairs was likely deafening behind the closed basement door. Bracing herself, Kim pulled the door open and was nearly physically pushed back by the force of the sound. Some vague part of her mind recognized the song, but she couldn't place it. Gazing across the uncovered concrete floor, she winced at the assault on her ears and watched Jason for a moment as he viciously attacked the punching bag they'd hung from the basement ceiling. He shone with sweat, the red T-shirt he'd put on already soaked through; he wore an expression of intense concentration, and every few moments a glimmer of red flashed in his eyes.

"Jason!" Kim shouted, but the music completely drowned her out. She took a few steps forward as the song ended and a new one started, noticing as she did that Jason altered his rhythm to match the new song. Kim was more familiar with this one; Jason mouthed the words as he assaulted the punching bag.

_She got down on hands and knees,  
__One ear against the ground, holding  
__Her breath to hear something  
__But the dirt made not a sound._

"Jason!" Kim screamed again, louder this time, placing a hand on his wet shoulder. He flinched at her touch and jumped back, dropping into a defensive stance. "It's me, it's me!" She quickly cried, holding a hand out in front of her.

Jason visibly relaxed, lowering his arms and stepping back from her before leaning against the punching bag, breathing heavily. He gestured with one hand at the room around them. "Sorry," he said, speaking so quietly she was forced to read his lips. "Didn't realize you'd be able to hear this."

"Baby, the Rangers on Aquitar can probably hear this," Kim replied loudly. "Speaking of which, do you mind?" Jason's eyes suddenly widened and he reached out to a nearby piece of plastic shelving, producing a small remote. He pointed it at a receiver on the wall behind the punching bag and the music abruptly stopped, leaving the basement ringing with leftover reverberations. Kim closed her eyes and let out a sigh of relief at the silence. Jason lowered the remote and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of one gloved hand.

"Are you OK?" Kim asked, looking at her husband with concern. "Zack told me the last time you went on a Rise Against kick like this you tailed some random British guy through downtown Geneva for four hours and then threatened to rip his head off if he ever even thought wrong about Trini again."

Jason looked up at her and smiled. "Son of a bitch had it coming. Besides, I'm pretty sure that was Disturbed. Zack always said that one white guy with a guitar sounds like every other to him."

Kim laughed a little and smiled back. "So do we have anything to be afraid of this time?"

"No, not today. You ever catch me listening to a lot of Avenged Sevenfold, though, you may want to hide the sharp objects."

Both of them chuckled at that; Jason began taking his sparring gloves off. Kim stepped forward and reached out to put a hand on his shoulder, but Jason jumped back again, leaving her standing there, hand outstretched, staring at him, bewildered. Jason closed his eyes and exhaled slowly through his nose. When he opened them, Kim nearly gasped at the pain she saw there.

"I don't know how you can stand being so close to me after what I just did," he said softly, removing his other glove and tossing them to the floor behind him.

"Jason, stop it," Kim said with a sigh. She gestured at herself. "Look at me. I'm fine, you're fine; everything is OK."

"There's nothing OK about me trying to choke you to death," Jason replied, his voice barely audible. "And look at your chest. That was me – _I_ did that. I swore to myself a long time ago that I would never let anyone hurt you and now…" his voice broke and he trailed off, glancing away at a spot on the wall. Kim couldn't help but notice the shine in the corners of his eyes.

Kim moved toward Jason again, more boldly this time, and grabbed Jason's chin before he had a chance to pull away. She yanked his head around to face her and waited for him to make eye contact with her before she spoke again, softer this time. "Damn it, Jason." She smiled gently at him and released her grip on his chin to cup his cheek. "They should classify that guilt complex of yours as a genuine mental illness and name it after you." When she didn't get the smile she was hoping for, Kim brought her other hand up and rested it on Jason's lower back. She struggled to ignore how tense he felt, the muscles beneath her hand pulled so taut they felt like bungee cords about to snap.

Kim took a deep breath and continued, concentrating on keeping her voice steady. "One of the most important things I learned during our time as Rangers was that people can think, and feel, and believe a lot of things. Some of those things we aren't afraid to share with the world; some of those things we'd die to defend. But there will also always be thoughts, feelings, desires that we're ashamed of, that we fight desperately to keep hidden, no matter how badly we want to act on them. And none of those thoughts, none of those feelings..." he glanced away and she pressed against his cheek until he turned back, the sweat on his face now mixed with a few stray tears. "None of those things determine who we are. They don't. You know why? Because no matter how powerful those urges are, no matter how painful it might be to fight them, we always have a choice. We have the power to choose whether to act on those feelings or not; we have the power to choose to do what we know is right. Those choices, Jason – those choices are what define us, what make us who we are, good or bad. And I have never," she quickly added as he opened his mouth to interrupt. "_Never _met anyone who's made more impossibly hard choices or been willing to give up more of himself to defend what he knows is right than you. Your willingness to look past what you want, what you _feel_, and do the right thing for the greater good is what made you such a great leader and a great Ranger all those years ago; and they're what make you such a great man now. Those choices have made you just as much of a legend as Tommy will ever be."

Kim paused for a moment, gauging Jason's reaction to her words, half-expecting him to interrupt or pull back, but he never did. The two of them just stood there for a moment in the silent room, staring into each other's eyes until Kim found the words to continue.

"You have another choice to make now, Jase. You have to choose whether or not you're willing to put aside pride, put aside your undeserved guilt, and do what has to be done to get this thing out of you once and for all. Because it's _that_ thing, Jason," Kim jabbed her finger at the side of Jason's head. "It's that thing that's trying to rob you of the one thing that makes you so powerful: your ability to _choose_. The man I know, the man I fell in love with? He would stop at _nothing_ to find a way to beat this thing, to destroy it before it hurt anyone else. So you have to ask yourself." Kim let go of Jason and stepped back, letting her hands drop to her sides. "Are you gonna let go of all this bullshit self-recrimination and let us help you kill this thing, or are you gonna spend so much time wallowing in things you couldn't control that you let it take away everything that ever mattered to you? It's your choice, Jason. Make it."

Jason stared at her, searching her face for something, but Kim stood her ground. The next move was his – he had to take it himself. Finally, after a long, almost unbearable moment, Jason set his jaw, covered the distance between them in two steps and threw his arms around her, pressing his lips against hers as passionately as if it were the last chance he'd ever get. When he eventually pulled back, he kept his arms wrapped around her and squeezed her close, her head resting against his chest.

"When did you get so good at the leader speech?"

"Learned from the best."

Kim stepped back gently and Jason left his arms wrapped loosely around her waist, smiling softly at her. "Have I Told You Lately That I Love You?"

She grinned back at him, rubbing slow circles on his chest with both hands. "Goes Without Saying."

"Let me say it anyway. I love you, Kim. What you said just now…it was amazing. I can't tell you how awesome it feels to know that you really think that about me." He leaned forward and kissed her gently on the forehead. "You really are too good for me."

"And don't you forget it," she replied with a giggle. "Now let's get upstairs. We both need showers before everyone gets here."

"You think they'll go totally apeshit on us when we drop this in their laps?"

"Come on. You know them – they may freak out at first but they care too much about us to stay mad about something like this."

"Though Aisha will probably try to kill me when she sees that bruise."

"OK, no promises on that one," Kim said with a laugh. "But I'll do my best to restrain her."

"That's comforting," he muttered under his breath. She gasped in mock anger and turned to slug him, but he swept her off the ground and carried her bridal-style up the stairs, laughing as she shrieked with delight.

* * *

As Jason and Kim reached the top of the stairs, Tommy made a beeline for them, shoving his phone into his pocket as he did so. He cut them off in the entryway; Jason jerked to a stop, tightening his grip around Kim. She had looped her left arm around his neck – the right was gently, distractedly caressing Jason's jaw line. Tommy saw Kim smirk with satisfaction as Jason drew in a shaky, husky breath and clenched his fingers tighter around her legs and shoulder. Tommy shook his head and cleared his throat to get their attention.

"Kat just called. She's gotten the news out to almost everyone, but no one can get a hold of Billy. She said he isn't answering at home or on his cell and –"

"He turns his cell off when he's at work," Kim said abruptly. Tommy glanced at Jason, who couldn't manage more than a slight nod. Tommy grinned as his friend closed his eyes and gently shook his head, clearly struggling against Kim's touch, fighting not to drop her on her ass. "We have his work number. I'll take care of it. Give us ten minutes."

Jason pushed past Tommy and bounded up the stairs, taking them several at a time.

"Ten minutes for what?"

"Shower!" Jason yelled back, charging down the short hallway and practically throwing Kim through the bathroom door. He squatted and plopped her on the linoleum; by the time she'd gotten to her feet, his shirt was already off and the water was running. Before she knew it, she was pressing Jason's back against the tile wall that lined the shower, the two of them losing themselves in each other as the room filled up with steam.


	10. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** Saban still owns Power Rangers, I still don't. I only own anything you don't recognize.

**A/N: **OK, big chapter here. For those of you who are starting to get impatient, don't worry - Jason's big reveal is just around the corner. First, though, we have two more former rangers to catch up with, one of whom is in an interesting situation.

Thanks for all the reviews, follows, favorites and general support. You guys rock. Enjoy!

* * *

**Unknown Location  
****Somewhere Outside Angel Grove, CA  
****July 10, 2012  
****9:30 AM**

"_Just promise you won't do anything crazy without me."_

Billy Cranston shoved his hands into his pockets and squinted at the wall-sized monitor before him. Complicated statistics, equations, diagrams, and images filled the screen, casting the dark room in a dim glow of blue light that formed a rough semicircle on the floor where he stood. The expansive room behind him remained hidden in shadow, the faint, glistening silhouettes of sophisticated equipment the only thing visible through the thick darkness. Billy turned and picked up a small tablet from a table behind him; as he slid a finger across the screen, an image on the wall before him was flung to the right, transitioning seamlessly to an adjacent monitor. Billy moved a few other equations and diagrams around before he paused, his finger hovering over the tablet.

"Wait," he murmured out loud. He placed his thumb and forefinger on the tablet and moved them slowly apart, magnifying a portion of the screen immediately in front of him. He raised his hand and pointed at a particular sequence of symbols, following them with a finger as he mouthed the equation to himself. "If I can successfully integrate the regenerative properties of this compound into the existing formula…" he glanced down at the tablet and made several quick swiping motions, his brow furrowed in intense concentration. After a moment, he stopped, looked up at the screen, then back at the tablet before jerking his head up and gaping at what he saw displayed before him, his mouth dropping open.

"Then the resulting solution would be able to simultaneously stimulate existing neurons and rebuild decaying brain tissue!" He whispered in awe. Beaming, Billy turned and set the tablet back on the table, aligning it carefully with one corner. After a moment, the table's surface lit up and a grid-like display appeared over a backdrop of an old diagram of an atom. Billy tapped a few times on the tablet and a new display appeared on the larger table, simulating the combination of several different synthetic chemical compounds. As the simulation played out, Billy sighed and ran a hand nervously through his hair, beginning to pace the length of the room, speaking softly to himself.

He was jarred out of his reverie by a sharp, high-pitched tone that seemed to fill every corner of the room, so suddenly Billy nearly stumbled into the wall. The tone was followed by a deep, muffled voice that boomed from invisible speakers, echoing off the walls.

"Dr. Cranston, you have a call on your private line. They say it's urgent."

"Damn it, Jensen!" Billy said angrily, leaning against the table as he spoke. "I have reminded General Blaylock numerous times that if he wants me working R&D for him I cannot be disturbed while I'm working."

"Doc, per General Blaylock's own orders, all R&D staff are subject to the discretion of military personnel on base. Entry logs show you've been here for the last 46 hours straight; there's a fine line between dedication and being cut off from the outside world."

Billy slammed a fist on the table and turned back to the screens, crossing his arms over his chest. "Three Ph. D.'s and I get to be psychoanalyzed by grunts. Not exactly the Nobel Prize," he muttered under his breath, his anger made sharper by lack of sleep. "Fine," he said louder. "Put it through on the earpiece. Oh, and Jensen? For the love of god, stop calling me Doc."

"Right. Morning!" The hum of the intercom ceased just as Billy's patience with Jensen's far too cheerful tone dried up. He let out a frustrated snort and strode back into the darkness of the room.

"Lights," Billy said, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand. The room immediately flooded with the harsh white light of the fluorescent bulbs that lined the ceiling, illuminating a collection of advanced scientific equipment. Billy blinked rapidly against the sudden brightness and made his way to an apparatus that resembled one of the medical tables from the old Command Center. On the corner of this table was a small device that vaguely resembled a Bluetooth headset; Billy picked it up and attached it to his ear. Leaning back against the corner of the table, keeping one eye on his simulation in progress, Billy pressed a button on the device and curtly said, "Cranston, R&D."

There was a pause on the other end before a familiar voice said, "Do you always answer your phone like that at work? You sound so official."

"I wouldn't know, I'm afraid," Billy responded automatically. "I receive phone calls so infrequently at work that I have no empirical knowledge to – wait. Kimberly?"

There was a soft giggle. "Yes, _William_. Did you forget you gave Jason and me your work number?"

Billy smiled. "Affirmative," he replied. "Your call was entirely unanticipated."

Kim exhaled into the phone before speaking again. "Is everything all right, Billy? We don't talk as much as we used to but I know for a fact that you only start with the tech speak – or use my full name – anymore when something's going on."

Billy shook his head. Same old Kim. Sometimes he swore that woman could read minds. "It's nothing," he said after a beat. "I just haven't slept much lately. Been pretty busy."

"Doing what again, exactly?"

_Yep. Same old Kim._ Billy was no psychologist but he knew prying when he heard it. "Sorry, Kimberly. Do you have any idea how much trouble I'd get in if I talked about this with you?"

"You've gotten way too good at keeping secrets, Billy," Kim teased. "Anyway, I'm calling because, uh…" she trailed off and Billy heard her whisper to someone in the background.

He heard another voice say something like, "You want me to tell him?" There was a rustling sound and more muffled voices before he heard Kim again.

"Something happened today, Billy. It was…it scared us shitless. Jason and I are calling everyone to a meeting at our place to, uh…explain some things. We really need you to be there."

Billy felt a knot of worry begin to form in the pit of his stomach. He pushed himself off the table and began wandering the lab aimlessly; letting his nervous legs move on their own. "Kim, what's wrong? What happened?"

"Look," Kim said, her voice laced with nervous tension. "Just trust me when I say this is really important and you really need to hear this. Can you be at our place at ten?"

Billy glanced at his watch. "Shit. Kim, that's only fifteen minutes from now. I'm at least an hour outside of Angel Grove, I can't-"

"What about Skype or something? Come on Billy, we _really_ need you to hear this."

"Well, Skype won't work, I don't have Internet access anywhere that's private and I'm assuming this is…"

"Yeah." It was all she needed to say. Billy had had a feeling this was Ranger related; privacy was a top priority.

"I think our only viable option would be a simple conference call, but I'd have to find a private place to do it. How long do you need me?"

"It might take a while," Kim admitted. "A few hours, possibly."

Billy took a long, slow breath. "I don't know, Kim. I'm on the verge of an extremely important breakthrough here, and I don't think I can step away for that long – or find sufficient privacy, for that matter."

"Don't make me sic Jason on you."

He froze. "You wouldn't."

"Famous last words, dude." Now it was Jason's voice coming through the phone. "I'd give the lady what she wants. She can be very…persuasive." Billy opened his mouth to reply, but he found himself at a loss for words.

"Billy?" Kim asked gently. "What do you think?"

Suddenly Jason broke in again. "You know how she gets when she's angry! Don't try to be a hero, Billy, it's not worth your life…!"

There were several grunts and muffled laughter from the other end of the call before Kim finally came on again.

"Billy, come on, this is really important, I wouldn't be calling you at work if it wasn't. Please?"

Billy sighed and gripped the bridge of his nose. "All right. I'll see what I can do. If I can figure something out I'll call you back at ten."

"Oh my god, thank you, Billy. You have no idea how much we appreciate this, really. Thank you."

"Just promise you won't do anything crazy without me."

"Deal."

The call ended and Billy yanked the earpiece off, tossing it back on the table and beginning to pace again. He absently checked the simulation on the table again, noting that it had encountered an error of some kind and failed to complete. "Son of a bitch."

Groaning to himself, Billy took his cell phone out of his pocket, turned it on, and made his way out the door to try and find some privacy. He stepped into the hallway and glanced to his right to see if anyone was coming. Seeing no one, he turned around to head the other way and collided with a stocky man in a military uniform. The file in the man's hands went flying, scattering papers all over the hallway floor. Stumbling back, Billy looked up at the man; his graying hair was cut in a neat, military style; his face seemed to be composed entirely of straight lines, everything about him rigid and precise. The man raised a thick, beefy hand to his head and groaned.

"Cranston? What the hell are you doing?"

Billy knelt to collect some of the papers from the floor. "Sorry, General Blaylock. I was in a bit of a hurry and-"

"What you'll be in is a world of shit if any of these files get lost," Blaylock snapped, turning to pick up a few stray pages.

Billy frowned and almost retorted – Blaylock was never like this, he had always known him to be surprisingly calm and easygoing – when one of the pictures caught his eye. He held it up and gaped at it, eyes widening in disbelief. It appeared to be a police photo; in it, a corpse lay slumped against a tree, the shadow of the photographer lying over it on the grass. It was the two perfectly round, totally cauterized wounds in the man's chest, however, that immediately piqued Billy's interest.

"Uh, General?" Blaylock turned and Billy held the photo out in front of him. "What is this? Where did you get this photo?"

Blaylock went white; suddenly, he snatched the photo out of Billy's hand so quickly Billy was left holding a torn corner of the page between his fingers. "Way above your pay grade, Doc. Forget you saw anything."

"General-"

Billy was interrupted by Blaylock grabbing him by the collar and shoving his face into Billy's, so close together their noses touched. "Listen to me, you little shit," Blaylock growled. Billy's eyes widened in shock. "You speak one word of this to _anyone_ and I will hunt you down and gouge your eyes out with a fucking can opener. You got that?"

Billy felt a bead of sweat run down the back of his neck. He was frozen by fear and surprise, Blaylock's highly uncharacteristic behavior catching him entirely off guard. Billy gulped and managed a weak nod; Blaylock seemed satisfied and shoved him backward, gathering up the remaining papers and pushing past Billy down the hallway. Billy stared after him, rubbing the back of his neck.

_What the hell was all that about?_

Sighing to himself, Billy turned and strode down the hallway, the opposite direction of where Blaylock had headed. Wherever that picture had come from, it had driven Blaylock totally apeshit. As much as he respected the man, Billy felt a stirring need to know how he'd come across the picture, as well as the true nature of its contents.

"Great," he muttered as he located a secluded alcove and lifted his phone. "Like I wasn't busy enough already."

* * *

**In Transit  
****Angel Grove, CA  
****July 10, 2012  
****9:45 AM**

Trini Kwan moaned and shifted her weight, trying to find a more comfortable position. She lay stretched out on the backseat of Zack's Jeep, her face pressed against the vinyl, the seatbelt buckle digging painfully into her right hip. The bright, piercing beams of morning California sunlight streamed through the windows, tormenting her with its ubiquity. Even with her eyes closed, it wouldn't leave her alone. She tried folding her hands beneath her head as a makeshift pillow, ignoring how much the position resembled the way a three-year-old would pantomime sleeping. Squeezing her eyes shut, Trini focused on slowing her breathing and tried to filter out Zack and Tanya's loud singing from the front seat; the song Tanya was playing involved a lot of falsetto, and Zack wasn't particularly good at it. To Trini's tired ears, the former Black Ranger sounded more like a dying goat than anything musical, but the two of them went on undeterred.

After a while, the noise became intolerable, and Trini could restrain herself no longer.

"Would you two kindly stop murdering all those innocent cats up there? Some of us are trying to sleep."

Zack turned the music down and laughed. "Don't think there's a very good chance of that happening, Tri. We're like five minutes from Jase and Kim's place; I don't see you getting your beauty sleep in by then. Maybe you could sing along with us. It's really helping me wake up." He spoke with barely stifled mirth, fighting back a grin as he glanced at her weary face in the rearview mirror.

"Fuck off, Zack," Trini shot back, her tone made biting by fatigue. "You aren't the one who just got back from three weeks in Africa. I'm gonna be jetlagged for the next month." The slender Asian rolled over so she faced into the back of the seat and nestled into the fabric again. "Whatever Kat wanted had better be _damn_ good or there will be heads rolling."

"Actually, Trini, before we get there, I think I should bring you a little more up to speed about that," Tanya suddenly said, twisting around in her seat to look directly at Trini. "We did kinda kidnap you without much explanation." The original Yellow Ranger rolled over reluctantly at her words and made eye contact. "Kat was just a messenger. This whole thing was Jason and Kim's idea. They had Tommy tell Kat to start calling everyone a couple hours ago. Apparently something happened today that scared all three of them so badly they felt an emergency meeting was necessary."

Trini slowly sat up, her narrow, almond-shaped eyes widening. "What? What happened? Is everything OK?"

"Clearly not or we wouldn't have had to drag you out of bed," Zack put in as he took a turn too fast and threw Trini against one wall. As Zack straightened the car out again he added, "Literally."

Trini's heartbeat had begun to speed up. She reached over absently and fastened her seatbelt, placing herself behind Zack to allow direct eye contact with Tanya. "How long ago was this?"

"We got the call while Zack was opening the studio for the day," Tanya replied. "That was nearly two hours ago. Then Kat called and told us you weren't answering your phone, yadda yadda yadda, Zack threw a glass of cold water in your face, and here we are."

Trini managed a tiny smile at Tanya's lighthearted recap of the last two hours. It was the most she could do – she hadn't had a decent night's sleep in almost two months, and it was really beginning to take its toll. Malawi had been very productive, just…not to her bodily health. She guessed it came with the high-stress job she'd insisted on pursuing, and she really wouldn't rather be doing anything else, but right this second she had this gnawing urge to crawl into the nearest hole and hibernate for the next six months like a grizzly bear.

Now, though, the attempt at humor fizzled and died. The atmosphere in the car had suddenly become tense and awkward, as if nobody wanted to acknowledge the concern they were feeling.

"How did Kat sound on the phone?" Trini asked more to break the silence than anything else. "Did it seem like anything catastrophic?"

Zack and Tanya exchanged looks, and Trini felt an involuntary shiver go through her as she watched them. Finally Zack spoke up. "She sounded pretty shaken up herself. Said something about Tommy having seen something and how if we had been there we would know why they were so freaked."

"She also said that Tommy was using a tone she hadn't heard since they were Rangers together, one he only used when things had gone seriously wrong," Tanya added nervously, hoping the isolated cabin of the vehicle would be sufficient privacy to bring up their past. "She didn't use those exact words, but whatever she'd heard from Tommy clearly had her terrified."

Trini blew out a breath and turned to stare blankly out the window. As the houses and cars and freshly cut lawns flew by outside, she found herself wishing desperately that she hadn't received this information third-hand. This was not the kind of message you wanted to play Telephone with, no matter how much you trusted the people relaying it to you. Trini knew that if she'd had more direct information, she wouldn't be so anxious right now; she wouldn't have time. She would be too busy analyzing every possible aspect of the situation, turning it over in her head and searching every possible facet for an in, a step in the right direction. It was an ability that had served her very well as a Ranger, and she'd put it to even better use in her current capacity. She straightened as a new wave of resolve filled her.

"Don't worry, guys," Trini said, her voice calm, almost cheerful. "If all eleven of us put our heads together, we'll figure this out. We always do."

"You mean we always _did_," Zack said quietly, gripping the wheel a little tighter. "We aren't Rangers anymore, Tri. Not all of us are equipped to handle crises of epic proportions."

"I'm not superhuman, Zack," Trini replied softly. Zack flicked his eyes toward her reflection in the rearview mirror, exactly the reaction she'd hoped for. She'd been aiming for the tone she had always broken out during their teenage years when things had seemed hopeless – a special timbre of reassurance mixed with cold reality that she'd never heard duplicated. She was glad he'd picked up on it. "But if I can defuse a potential civil war on two hours of sleep a night without much more than a shiny badge and good intentions, we can handle this. Trust me."

Zack turned back to the road, grinning. "Wow, Tri. I always wondered if you did that on purpose."

"Well, I'm much more level-headed with a healthier sleep schedule, but yeah, it was always on purpose. It's a thing I can do." Trini balled her right hand into a fist and cupped her left hand around it, gazing out the window again. Her reflection stared back at her, the image of a woman worn ragged by a labor of love. Frowning at the bags under her eyes, Trini adjusted her focus to look past the reflection at the houses they were passing. Turning her concentration inward, she began a breathing exercise she'd learned as a teenager, trying to relax. It seemed like she'd convinced Zack of her confidence. Now she just had to convince herself.

_On the bright side, though_, she thought as her breathing became deep and rhythmic. _I'm not the least bit sleepy anymore._


	11. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** Everything you've heard of already is property of Saban. Anything else is mine. Songs referenced in this chapter are by Panic! at the Disco, The Offspring, Red Jumpsuit Apparatus, Green Day, the Beatles and Fall Out Boy.

**A/N: **And now the moment you've all been waiting for. Thanks for reading, reviewing, following, favoriting, and just generally being awesome.

* * *

**Scott Residence – Master Bedroom  
****Angel Grove, CA  
****July 10, 2012  
****9:58 AM**

"_We all have our demons, Rock. Mine are just a little less Dr. Phil and a lot more Wes Craven."_

Jason stole another glance at his watch. Two minutes. The slow, inexorable ticking of the second hand seemed to taunt him from behind the quartz face. Blowing a nervous breath through his teeth, he ran his hand through his still damp hair and resumed pacing the room, flexing his toes against the insides of his boots. After his shower, he had changed into a pair of grey slacks and a nicer red shirt that he'd buttoned to just below the collar; a tie streaked with black and gold hung loosely around his neck. The shoulder holster with his gun still strapped inside lay across the back of a desk chair in the corner, covered by his jacket.

Jason felt a cold sweat beginning to break out on his lower back and sank to a seated position on the edge of the bed. He propped his elbows on his knees and lowered his head into his hands, squeezing his eyes shut and breathing slowly through his nose.

"_God damn it,_" he whispered, opening his eyes to stare at the floor. Kim and Tommy were downstairs right now, preparing for the others to arrive; he'd already had to tell them three times to give him five more minutes. Eventually he knew one of them would return and drag him downstairs, bodily if necessary. Leaning back, he stretched his arms out behind him and supported his weight on his hands, tilting his head up to stare into the ceiling. He allowed his eyes to relax, the hazy images that swam into and out of focus in the sheetrock helping to divert his attention.

"Hey."

Jason jerked his head upright, blinking rapidly. Kim stood in the doorway, her hands in her pockets, watching him with concern. She wore a different pink blouse, a darker shade than the one she'd put on earlier, and white pants. Jason looked her up and down, a small half-smile forcing its way onto his face.

"Christ, Kim. You scared the shit outta me."

"Not surprising. I've been standing here for like thirty seconds and you never so much as glanced at me." Kim stepped through the doorway and sat beside Jason on the bed, placing a hand on his leg. "You ready for this?"

Jason laid a hand on top of hers and looked at the floor again. "Can I still say no at this point?" Kim smiled and squeezed his thigh.

"Never stopped you before."

"Yeah." He looked up at her, managing the same small half-smile again. "I've jumped through portals into evil alternate dimensions, I've risked the lives of my closest friends more times than I can count, I spent the last ten years lying to everyone I know about the biggest and most important thing I ever did, and you're right – I was never really ready for any of it and it never stopped me. But having to gather together the only people in the world who think they know who I really am and tell them all that they don't…" he trailed off and glanced into her eyes, his mouth still open as though waiting to continue. After a moment, he licked his lips and added, "To tell them all that this time _I'm_ the danger, that something they think ended five years ago never really went away, and worse, that I kept it from them all this time – I don't think I could ever be ready enough." As he spoke, he began rolling his sleeves up to the elbows.

Kim nodded, glancing toward the door. "Well, ready or not, this is the right thing to do. I just wish it hadn't had to come to this for you to listen to me."

"You don't think I feel bad enough about that already?"

"I'm not trying to make you feel bad, Jase. Sometimes I just wish you weren't so damn stubborn."

Jason's smile returned, a little wider this time. He was about to reply when several sets of loud voices carried up to them from downstairs. His gaze flicked to the open door. "They're here."

Kim smiled gently as the voices quieted and they heard footsteps on the stairs. Soon Tommy filled the doorway, glancing between the two of them expectantly. "Everyone's here. You guys comin'?"

Kim looked back at Jason. "Time to Dance."

Jason chuckled and shook his head. He leaned over and kissed Kim lightly on the cheek. "You're Gonna Go Far, Kid."

Tommy cleared his throat from the doorway. "Waiting."

Kim jabbed a finger at him. "Warning."

Tommy made a face of mock terror, raising his hands in front of him. "Help!"

Jason stood and crossed the room, grabbing his jacket and holster off the chair, laughing softly as he did so. He walked right up to Tommy and said, "I've Got a Dark Alley and a Bad Idea That Says You Should Shut Your Mouth."

There was a brief silence before Tommy broke into a grin and stepped to one side to let Jason through, slapping his old friend on the back as they moved down the hallway toward the stairs. Jason wormed his arms into the shoulder holster and let his jacket hang over one arm, wiping his rapidly moistening palms on his pants. With each step he moved down, the soft voices from the living room grew gradually louder, closer. Taking another deep breath, Jason stepped off the last stair onto the hardwood floor and stopped for a moment to collect himself.

_Here goes nothing._

He gathered every last ounce of resolve and stepped around the corner.

* * *

**Scott Residence – Living Room/Kitchen  
****10:05 AM**

As Jason came around the corner, the scattered conversation in the main living area came screeching to a halt. He tossed his jacket onto a hook near the front door as casually as he could and stuck his thumbs into his belt loops, approaching his friends with what he hoped was an air of calm. Seven heads swirled around to face him at the sound of his footsteps; seven pairs of eyes drilled into him, searching for answers in his face. Jason scanned the group assembled before him, sighing as he realized how long it had been since they'd all been together at once. Tommy and Kim had moved the chairs around the kitchen table so that they all faced him; Adam sat at one end of the table, Trini at the other. Aisha and Kat sat in the other two chairs on the far side, all four resting their elbows on the polished wood in front of them. Rocky stood behind Aisha, leaning on the back of her chair with one hand and shining an apple on his shirt with the other. Zack and Tanya sat next to each other on the couch in the adjacent living room, which had been flipped around to face into the entryway. As his eyes wandered through the room, Jason saw Tommy step away from him and take a spot behind Kat, rubbing her shoulders with both hands and giving Jason a quick nod.

He tried to smile – though it felt more like a grimace – as Kim brushed past him and set her phone on the table, tapping the screen before moving back to his side. "Billy," she mouthed as she turned her back to the others; he nodded and she wrapped her hands around his right arm where he stood in the entryway. Jason exhaled slowly; his palms were sweating again.

"Hey guys."

"Jason." The others chorused his name back to him, some of them more sharply than others. Kat was practically glaring at him; Zack fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat. Jason noticed that Trini hadn't even looked up at him yet – instead she seemed deeply interested in the faux wood grain of the tabletop. Finally someone broke the tense silence.

"Hello, Jason," Billy's voice said through the phone. Several people's eyes flicked away from him, toward the sound; Jason didn't miss the fact that Adam and Rocky never even glanced away from him. They examined him intently; Adam scanning him up and down like a doctor, Rocky staring at him in concern. Jason tried to read something in their faces, but Adam's was completely blank, cold and objective; Jason was reminded of why nobody played poker with Adam more than once. Rocky's worry was a little more obvious, but Jason couldn't be sure if it was worry for Jason's well-being or whether Rocky was assessing how big a threat he might pose. "Kimberly implied that this was urgent. Has something happened?"

Jason never got a chance to answer. Kim released her grip and stepped forward. "Yeah, something happened," she answered. She tugged her shirt open, exposing the large bruise on her chest. "This."

Aisha gasped and threw a hand over her mouth. Trini slowly lifted her head at the sound and spun in her chair to face Kim directly, gripping the edge of the table tightly as she gaped at her in shock. Several other people's eyes widened; Adam and Rocky gave Kim only a quick glance before narrowing their eyes at Jason, their questions written all over their faces.

"My God, Kim!" Kat whispered, her already fair face draining of color. "What the hell did that to you?"

Jason stepped up next to his wife and braced himself. He spoke his next two words in as calm and clear a voice as he could manage.

"I did."

For the last two hours Jason had been trying to gauge how much time he would have to allow for his announcement to sink in; how long he would be able to wait before elaborating without anyone reacting. Every scenario he'd run through had granted him at least a few seconds of stunned silence before everything went to shit; thus, firmly believing that he had time to do so, he paused for dramatic effect, intending to give everyone time to process what he'd just said.

He had drastically overestimated how long they would need.

The room immediately erupted into chaos. Aisha, Zack and Adam were on their feet almost too fast for Jason to see; Aisha threw her chair back into Rocky with such force that he doubled over in pain, choking on a mouthful of fruit. Zack practically shoved Tanya back onto the couch as he leapt out of his seat as if electrocuted, and Adam cut the distance between him and Jason in half in less than a second. Kat glared daggers at him, pulling Tommy's arms in front of her from behind like some sort of shield. Trini was slower to her feet, but only because her legs were trembling; she, Adam, Aisha and Zack advanced on Jason, jabbing their fingers in his face and speaking loudly, angrily over each other, mostly asking different variations of "What the fuck is wrong with you?" or shouting about how many different kinds of scum he was.

Rocky unfolded himself from over the back of Aisha's chair and made a move to rush Jason only to have Tommy yank one hand free from Kat's grasp and throw an arm around Rocky's shoulders, holding the other man back with a great deal of effort despite Rocky's loud grunts of protest. Tanya covered her mouth with one hand and sank into the couch, looking at Jason with revulsion as the others moved in on him. Kat turned and regarded the struggle between Tommy and Rocky and began shouting at her fiancé to let Rocky go, demanding to know whose side he was on.

Aisha reached Jason first. He stared her down, raising a hand in a calming gesture; she batted it away and slapped him across the face. Hard. Jason just took it, the blow whipping his head to the right and leaving a painful tingle in the shape of Aisha's hand on his cheek.

Kim chose that moment to step in. She pushed between Jason and Aisha, grabbing Aisha's shoulders with both hands and holding her friend back. Adam and Zack flanked the woman in yellow, crossing their arms like bodyguards and eyeing Jason like an escaped mental patient. Trini hung back, angry tears streaming down her face as she screamed at Jason in Vietnamese. He grimaced at her barrage; what little he remembered of her native tongue from what she'd taught him in Geneva was enough for him to know she wasn't talking about sunshine and ponies.

"Aisha, stop it!" Kim's voice cut through the clamor like a siren, drawing the shocked gazes of everybody in the room save Tommy, who still had an arm wrapped around Rocky. He let it drop and pushed Kat back down in her chair, the latter seeming to finally find the strength to stand. Aisha gaped at Kim openmouthed. Her lips moved soundlessly a few times – it looked to Jason like she was trying to speak but nothing came out. Finally, Adam reached up and brushed one of Kim's hands off Aisha's shoulder, replacing it with one of his own. Casting a quick glance over her shoulder at Adam, Aisha turned back to Kim and spoke with barely restrained fury.

"Kim, honey, I really hope this is some fucked up new version of Stockholm syndrome I've never heard of because if it's not I might have to slap you, too."

"Doesn't Stockholm syndrome require someone to be taken hostage?"

"Oh, don't tell me you're defending this asshole!" Aisha flung a hand at Jason without breaking eye contact with Kim. Jason arched his eyebrows and folded his arms over his chest, watching his wife hold her best friend back.

"Jason's only crime here is a failure to grasp the concept of subtlety." At Aisha's incredulous expression, Kim barreled onward. "And we can prove it if you call off the lynch mob."

"Damn, this thing should've come with a play-by-play." Every eye in the room zeroed in on Kim's phone, lying forgotten on the table. Billy's voice carried a hint of amusement that threw the whole situation even further off kilter. "Can someone please explain to me what the hell is going on?"

Jason and Kim both opened their mouths to respond, but Trini spoke over both of them, glaring at Jason the whole time. "Jason was just about to explain to us why it's somehow OK that he assaulted his own wife."

Several people began speaking very loudly all at once.

Billy, his voice made squawky by the connection: "Excuse me? He did _what_?"

Aisha, feeling increasingly like the subject of a tug-of-war between Kim and Adam: "And why Kim feels it necessary to defend him when her chest looks like something I painted in kindergarten."

Rocky, completely removed from the other argument, shoving Tommy away: "What the fuck, man? You gonna start defending him, too?"

Tanya, from the sofa: "This is bullshit!" Her voice was shrill and strained, as though desperately pleading for her words to be true. She spun, finally facing the others. "Kim, Jason, please, tell them this is all bullshit!"

Zack, standing rigid behind Aisha, every muscle on his body drawn taut like a rubber band: "Jason, I swear to god if you don't explain yourself in the next ten seconds I will kick your balls into your goddamn throat." His voice carried a venom Jason had never heard from Zack before; that frightened him more than anything anybody else had said.

Kim finally pushed Aisha away, stepped back against Jason, cupped her hands around her mouth and screamed, "HEY!"

The entire room went silent. Kim let her hands flop to her sides and glanced from one person to another, taking in their various looks of disgust, rage or pity and nodding slightly at Tommy's reassuring wink. "The hell is wrong with you people? Do you know this man at all?" She jerked a thumb over her shoulder at Jason, who still hadn't spoken. The violent reaction he'd elicited had caught him so badly off guard that he'd been rendered utterly speechless; by the time his wits had returned, it had been far too late to say anything productive.

"This is Jason we're talking about," Kim continued, growing more and more passionate with each word. "I can look to any one of you and name a time when he has been personally involved in saving your life. Have you completely forgotten what the people in this room mean to him? He would die five times over for every last one of you." She paused for a moment and chuckled bitterly, still sweeping her gaze around the room. "Now, granted, he didn't exactly bring this up with any degree of tact. Like I said," she turned and looked Jason dead in the eye. "He's not real big on subtlety. But just because he went a little overboard with the dramatic reveal doesn't give any of you an excuse to crucify him without a single word of explanation. Not after everything he's done for you."

Kim moved back beside Jason, who hesitated for a moment, unsure of whether he had the floor quite yet. After an awkward handful of moments, Tommy spoke up from the back of the room. "Kim's right, you guys." A few people turned to look at him; others kept their eyes fixed on Jason and Kim. Tommy ignored all of them and made eye contact with Jason. "Jase?"

"Thanks, bro," Jason said softly. He turned to Kim and said, "Damn, two big speeches in one day? You're on a roll." He offered her a lopsided grin that wasn't returned; she frowned at him and gestured toward the group with her eyes. Jason sighed and turned to look out at his friends, his chosen family, ten people he would give his life for in a heartbeat, who now peered back at him with a horrible, resentful suspicion that formed a knot behind his ribcage. He had earned it, after all – he just considered himself lucky that his mistake could be remedied.

"You guys might want to sit back down," he said softly. "This may take a while."

* * *

**Scott Residence – Kitchen/Living Room  
****10:20 AM**

It took a good three minutes for everyone to return to their seats. During that time, Jason refused to look at anybody, fixing his gaze on the floor while he chose his words. When Kim tapped him gently on the shoulder, he lifted his head and drew himself up to his full height. The others looked back at him expectantly; Aisha, Kat and Rocky still looked wary of him, while Trini, Tanya and Zack's expressions had softened a bit. Adam, being Adam, had remained frustratingly impassive. Tommy's eyes shone with support; Jason gave him a nod of gratitude before stepping forward and starting at the beginning.

"You guys remember Muranthias?" Tommy bowed his head slightly; Kat closed her eyes, and Jason didn't miss the involuntary shudders that went through Adam and Tanya, the latter whimpering quietly and squeezing Zack tightly against her.

"I wasn't there personally," Billy's voice said from the phone. "But from what Tommy and Katherine told me, I believe that was where you and Kimberly were turned evil for a short time by Dark Spectre's brother Maligore. Correct?"

"To a degree," Jason said, shoving his hands into his pockets. "They tell you _how_ Divatox managed to do that?"

"Yeah, she dropped you two into her own personal Crack of Doom," Zack piped up. "Maligore possessed you or something and sent you back out to fight the others, etcetera, etcetera. The whole evil Ranger bit. Been done to death, really."

"Not quite," Jason replied, earning confused looks from the original Turbo team. "I never told you guys what actually happened in that volcano." Jason took a slow, shaky breath, feeling the color draining from his face. "Maligore didn't just turn us evil. I wish it had been that simple." He licked his lips nervously, unsure of how to proceed.

Rocky came to his rescue. "Come on, Jason, how could it have been worse than that? I mean, when we watched you guys get dropped in there, we thought you were dead."

Jason made eye contact with his successor. "You were right."

Every mouth in the room dropped open, even Tommy's. Jason glanced from one pair of shocked eyes to another as he continued. "I felt the lava in that pit eat every square inch of flesh and muscle off the lower half of my body. I saw my bones stripped clean; I felt the inside of my mouth literally being burned raw. Every inch of my body was on fire, I was choking on smoke, there were blisters forming and popping everywhere…" he trailed off, rubbed the back of his neck and went on. "Kim was holding my hand and I…I _felt_ her die. I didn't last much longer after that.

"Then, for a while – I have no idea how long – there was just nothing. No pain, no sound, no thought, nothing. And then suddenly we were back, and I just remember having this…_thing_ in my head that amplified every negative quality about me; every petty resentment, every pent up reservoir of rage that I'd managed to hold back with my martial arts training, everything. It fed on them, forced me to act on them, brought them to life. That's why I went after you two so hard." Jason looked at Tommy and Rocky, both of whom stood frozen behind their partners' chairs, their faces white as paper. "Rock, some part of me resented you for getting my powers when I had to give them up. I think we all know how hard that is." Rocky nodded slowly and Jason turned to Tommy, pain shining in his eyes. "Tommy…fuck, Tommy, I hate just talking about this." Jason closed his eyes and drew in a shaky breath. "There was part of me – a part I spent a long time repressing, a part I never wanted to see the light of day – that never forgave you for taking leadership of the team away from me; that always felt this contempt for every time you succeeded at anything. That rivalry spell we were placed under that one time brought some of that to the surface, but it was so much deeper than that. It became so intense that I…well." Jason choked back the sob that threatened to push free of his throat.

"And then aside from all of that, yes, there was some of Maligore in there, too. He seemed to draw power from my anger, my jealousy, my resentment for you, and he made those things the only things that mattered. When you were holding me over the lava, Tommy, I…" Jason's voice broke; this time he had to pause, wipe his eyes with one hand and glance away for a moment to get his breathing under control. "I think you may have seen it in my eyes, but you told yourself you were wrong. You weren't." He glanced back at Tommy, whose face darkened with the awful epiphany.

"You wanted me to drop you."

Everyone who'd been present on Muranthias whipped their heads around to face Tommy, words of protest dying on their tongues at his expression. "He fought me some but I told myself he was trying to climb up my arm and pull me in. I never thought…" Tommy trailed off and Jason began again.

"It's true. I _wanted_ you to drop me in there so that Maligore could rise up and destroy everything. I can still remember how it felt." He swept his gaze around the room. "Do any of you know how it feels to have someone crawl into your head, put their hands on everything that makes you who you are, and… play with it? To have all of your thoughts, desires, feelings, everything tied to strings like puppets? I felt every ounce of control ripped away from me, a little at a time; that thing didn't just force me to do that shit, it…it made me _want_ to do it." He scanned the group again. "Do any of you have any idea what that's like?"

"I sort of do," Kat said softly, her voice almost a whisper. Jason raised an eyebrow at that. "By the end, Rita had pretty nearly convinced me that what I was doing was part of my own nature, that I had always been evil; she made the horrible things I did feel more right than the real right thing." She looked up at Jason, tears forming in her eyes. "Is that close?"

"Yeah," he said gently, offering her a small smile. Tommy squeezed her shoulder and Jason added, "Only picture that times about six thousand. That's how it felt."

Tommy glanced at Jason again, frowning. "Wait a minute. I thought Lerigot and his wife purified you – got all of Maligore's influence out of your head."

"They did for Kim," Jason replied, motioning toward his wife with his head. "But only because she was first. I guess by the time they were done with her there was barely enough of their magic left to help me. All they were able to do was give me control back. Maligore's fire is still in there; I can't feel it right this second but I know it's there. And I'm the only thing keeping it down."

Everyone was quiet for a moment before Adam, maddeningly practical as always, spoke up. "No offense, Jase, but what does this have to do with what happened to Kim?"

For the next several minutes, the others listened with rapt attention as Jason detailed everything he and Kim had experienced over the last five years – from the steadily intensifying nightmares that gradually began manifesting physically to the flashes of red in his eyes that had become less and less predictable and finally to the last couple of incidents, culminating with the episode in the park. Kim supplied additional input every once in a while, and Tommy gave some of his own perspective on what happened that morning that had prompted the call to go out; for the most part, however, Jason spoke uninterrupted, watching with great relief as even the iciest glares in the room slowly melted into expressions of sympathy.

When Jason had finished, nobody said anything for a long time. A few people fidgeted nervously in their seats; Rocky shifted his weight back and forth from one foot to the other, still taking the occasional absentminded bite of the half-eaten apple in his hand. Zack flopped his head back onto the sofa, staring at the ceiling and sighing loudly. When Rocky finally broke the silence, moving toward the trashcan to throw away the core of the apple, a couple people jerked as if hit from behind; Aisha actually let out a little yelp of surprise – she'd been watching Jason so intently she hadn't even noticed her husband moving away.

"So let me get this straight," Rocky said, making no effort to keep his voice down. "For the last five years you've slowly been turning into a mix between an evil version of the Incredible Hulk and something out of _Hellraiser_ and you thought we were better off _not_ knowing?"

"Wouldn't you have preferred to go the rest of your life without needing to sit in on my little therapy session?" Jason countered. "I did what I know at least half of us here would've done: I tried to handle it, I tried to do everything I could to not make it your problem, but what happened this morning made me realize that it _is _your problem. I had to tell you now for the same reason I kept it from you before. I know it sucks and I hate to have to drop this on everyone but I think you have a right to know." Jason made eye contact with Rocky and gave him a small smile. "We all have our demons, Rock. Mine are just a little less Dr. Phil and a lot more Wes Craven."

There was soft laughter at that; Jason felt a massive amount of tension flood from his chest at the lightened mood. When Aisha looked his way and offered an apologetic smile, he gratefully returned it before moving toward Zack and holding out a hand. As Zack took it in his own, Billy's voice squawked from Kim's phone again.

"Jason, first of all I want to thank you on behalf of everyone for sharing this with us – it was clearly very hard for you. That being said, I have to ask what you plan on doing about it."

"Actually, Billy," Jason nodded at Zack and released his hand before moving back to the table. "I was kinda hoping you could help with that. I know you brought some stuff back from Aquitar with you a couple years ago and I was hoping you had something that could run a scan on me like what we used to have back at the old Command Center. Maybe if we knew exactly what was going on with me, we'd be able to handle it better."

"That sounds like a wise course of action," Billy replied. "Unfortunately I don't think I'll be alone here for much longer. I'll see what I can do and call you back."

"Great. Thanks, Billy." There was a soft click from the phone; Jason scooped it up and tossed it back to Kim. "As for the rest of you…" Jason motioned towards himself. "Like I said, these episodes are getting less and less predictable, meaning one could potentially happen anytime. If I'm gonna be around people all the time like nothing's wrong – not to mention armed," he motioned to his shoulder holster. "I need you all to be on the alert in case something does happen. I won't trust myself around Kim without knowing one of you guys is standing by ready to come help her if I lose it."

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that," Aisha said with a smile. "Cause if you pull any more crazy shit on my girl I will not hesitate to put you on your ass."

"Good to know," Jason said with a laugh.

"Jason." Jason turned and saw that Tanya had stood up and was resting one hand on the back of the couch. "I just wanted to apologize on behalf of everyone for jumping down your throat like we did. We should've given you a chance to explain yourself before we jumped to conclusions…we should've trusted you more."

"Thanks, Tan, but I think I'm the one who needs to apologize," Jason said. "I should have told you guys about this a long time ago. You guys have put your asses on the line so many times it was stupid of me to think you wouldn't be able to handle this when all the facts were laid out. I waited too long and Kim got hurt because of it – you all just acted the way you did because you wanted to protect her. I wouldn't ask for anything less. So I'm the one who's sorry. No leader – no friend – worth anything would keep something like this from the people he trusted."

Suddenly Tanya surprised him by crossing the room and enveloping Jason in a hug; Aisha and Trini were quick to join her. Adam stood slowly and carefully gripped Jason's shoulder, smiling softly and nodding, a gesture Jason gladly replicated. Rocky and Zack joined them as well, Zack throwing an arm around Jason's shoulder while Rocky leaned on Aisha from behind and flashed Jason a grin. Tommy and Kat moved to stand behind Jason, enclosing him in a circle of his friends. Jason laughed a little, the gesture catching him off guard. When Adam spoke softly, the proximity ensured his words were heard by all of them.

"Times like this, I really wish Zordon was still here."

Jason looked up at Adam and smiled sadly. "I think he'd be proud of you guys."

They stood that way for a long, wistful few minutes during which there was no need for words; simple physical contact spoke for itself.

Kim killed the moment by dashing back into the room, shoving her phone into her pocket. "Jase, Tommy," she gasped, brushing her hair out of her face. "I just got a call from work. There's something we need to see."


	12. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: Saban owns Power Rangers...*sigh*. I only own what you don't already know from TV.**

**A/N: **Thanks for all the response to that last chapter! That felt really good. For those of you who feel a little lost, don't worry - last chapter was a long but necessary diversion from this story's main plot. We're really getting back into that here. Enjoy!

* * *

**In Transit  
****Angel Grove, CA  
****July 10, 2012  
****11:00 AM**

"_Who the hell _was _this guy?"_

"Please tell me I'm not the only one who thinks it's a bad idea leaving Rocky at your house with all your food." Tommy leaned forward and pressed his palms against the curved edge of the backseat of Jason's truck, thrusting his face between his two colleagues in front.

"Dude. Chill," Jason replied absently, glancing up at a passing street sign. "He knows better than to start grabbing shit out of someone else's kitchen. Besides, I'm sure everyone's gone or asleep by now. Couple of 'em looked about ready to drop where they stood. Was that the turn?" He turned to Kim, who was currently enthralled with her phone's GPS. She dropped her hands to her lap in frustration and rolled her eyes, glaring sidelong at Jason.

"Are you sure you've lived here your entire life?" Kim asked as she flopped her head back against the seat. "This place is three blocks from the park; you've probably walked by it a thousand freakin' times. Why the hell do you need me to give you directions?"

"I don't," Jason answered, smiling wryly without taking his eyes off the road. "I just wanted to make you feel useful."

Kim snorted and turned to Tommy. "See what I have to live with?"

Tommy chuckled and leaned back in his seat. "To be fair, you did kinda walk right into that one."

Jason laughed loudly as Kim shot both of them death glares. She raised a finger and started to speak but he never gave her the chance. "We're here."

The truck slowed to a stop and the three of them piled out, flashing their respective IDs at the officer who ran to meet them. As he led them to the site of the accident, the three former Rangers took a moment to examine the scene they now found themselves in.

A dark red Mitsubishi sedan sat half on and half off the curb, its front end wrapped around a light pole that now stood at nearly a forty-five degree angle with the ground. Pieces of shattered glass littered the surrounding pavement; a thin wisp of smoke was still rising from the destroyed vehicle's hood. The driver's side door hung open. A quick look inside revealed that the airbag had deployed, the car's entire interior sparkling with the tiny remnants of the windshield. Jason whistled softly as he walked around the car, studying the wreckage intently.

"Why did they call us out here?" He asked, glancing up from the crash to address the AGPD officer who'd met them on the scene.

"Crash happened around 3 this morning. Six different eyewitnesses reported seeing someone exit the vehicle and run off in the direction of the park – someone who matched the description of the John Doe they found there today."

"Wow," Kim said quietly, accepting the pair of latex gloves the officer handed to her. "Two new leads in five hours? This has to be some kind of record."

Jason pulled on his own pair of gloves. "Not to mention that this is the first time any of our alerts turned up a damn thing." Kim met his eyes and nodded. In every one of the other cases, any calls for witnesses or requests for information had come up empty. It was as if the victims in these cases had been invisible – as though they hadn't even existed until they'd been murdered.

"Car's got no plate," Tommy noted, pointing to the rear bumper. He frowned, squatting at the back of the car. "Any cars of this model reported stolen?"

The officer just shook his head. "The VIN's been scratched out, too. Whoever was driving this thing was in some deep shit." There was a soft chirping sound and the officer pulled a phone from his pocket. He turned away from the three former Rangers and began conversing with someone in hushed tones.

Jason raised an eyebrow and leaned into the driver's seat. There was a streak of blood on the inside of the open door in the shape of a hand. He moved past that and pushed further into the car, sweeping his eyes over the interior. The driver's seat was nearly completely covered in shards of glass; a small puddle of blood had formed on the edge of the seat and the floor mat. Jason put a hand on the center console and leveraged himself across the divide to open the glove compartment, but the grass under his feet was damp from the rain the night before. He felt himself suddenly lose traction and slide forward, his hand slipping off the console and landing in the passenger seat.

"You all right over there, Jase?" Tommy grinned at him through the back window. Jason shifted his weight and raised a hand to give Tommy the finger; as he did so, something brushed against his hand. He glanced down at the seat and saw that a small pocketknife that had been lying in the seat had fallen against his hand. The blade was open, the dull gray metal caked with a reddish-brown crust.

"Whoa," Jason breathed as he picked the knife up and gingerly extricated himself from the car. "Guys? Come take a look at this."

Tommy and Kim quickly joined him, staring at the knife in bewilderment. "Is that blood?" Tommy asked, tracing a finger down the length of the blade.

"No, it's maple syrup," Jason retorted. Kim stifled a giggle.

"OK, smartass, then whose blood is it?" Tommy eyed Jason expectantly and put his hands on his hips.

"Well we have six concurring reports that our John Doe was the only person in this car. You do the math."

"What, he cut himself with it?" Tommy asked incredulously.

"He did have that head wound when they found him," Kim pointed out.

"No way," Tommy interjected, shaking his head. "Have you ever seen a head wound bleed that little? There's no way in hell he did that to himself while he was still alive."

Jason tore his gaze away from the knife to look Tommy in the eye. "It's the only theory that makes even the slightest bit of sense, bro."

Kim stepped away and put her hands on the doorframe of the car. "Where was that thing?" She asked over her shoulder.

"It was just lying on the passenger seat," Jason answered. "I was about to open the glove compartment and I just sort of brushed against it."

Kim turned back into the car, nodded, and leaned inside herself. Jason and Tommy moved back toward the rear bumper. Tommy continued to examine the knife; after a moment, Jason nudged him. "What?"

"Look," Jason said, gesturing to the road. "Notice anything odd?"

Tommy frowned and turned to face the road. "Not really. What's up?"

"There are no skid marks," Jason replied, pointing. "Which means the guy never even tried to stop." He handed Tommy the knife and folded his arms over his chest. "This guy wrapped his car around a light pole at full speed, jumped out, ran three blocks to the park, of all places, and somehow wound up dead. And he has a knife in his front seat with dried blood on it. If I didn't know any better I'd say he was either on some heavy shit or he was running from someone."

Tommy scrunched up his mouth and studied the knife again. "This thing wouldn't really do much as far as self defense. Why bother with –"

Suddenly, a soft click caught their attention from the trunk. Jason whirled, locking his gaze on the car. "What was that?"

"Kim?" Tommy said. "Did you do something just now?"

"I just opened the glove compartment. It's empty, by the way. Why?"

Jason approached the rear of the car. "Could you do me a favor and pop the trunk?"

"Uhh…sure." Kim shifted her weight awkwardly from one hand to the other, grunting softly with exertion as she stretched toward the floor of the driver's seat and tugged on a lever with a pictogram of the trunk opening. Jason felt the lid give a little and lifted it the rest of the way. The trunk's interior was empty, the upholstery practically spotless. It was almost as if the thing had never been used.

That was when he noticed the small lip that ran horizontally across the floor of the compartment. Jason reached out and ran a hand along it, feeling a solid surface beneath the fabric. He tried to force a finger into the small crack, but the seal was still too tight. It seemed far too obvious – opening the glove compartment unlocks a secret panel in the trunk? – but then again, the car had no plates, no form of ID that was clearly visible…clearly the guy had never intended anyone else to be inside it.

On a hunch, he said, "Kim? Is the glove compartment still open?" During the puzzled silence that followed his question, Jason felt Tommy come up beside him.

The two of them stood beside each other staring into the trunk for a moment before Tommy quietly said, "We should have shotguns for this kind of deal."

Jason smirked knowingly. "How many up there?"

Hearing Jason catch on to his reference, Tommy smirked back. "Three or four."

"That counting our guy?"

"Not sure."

"So that means there could be up to five guys up there?"

"It's possible."

Jason turned to Tommy, his grin widening. "We should have fuckin' shotguns."

The two of them burst out laughing as Kim finally seemed to realize that Jason had spoken to her. "Hey Travolta!" She called out over the laughter. "You wanna run that by me one more time?"

Jason stifled another round of laughter and called back, "I asked if the glove compartment was still open. If it is, could you close it? I got a hunch."

There was a brief pause before Jason and Tommy heard another click and a panel popped out of the trunk floor, about a foot square. The two men's eyes widened.

"Think that's where the spare tire goes?" Tommy asked, his tone showing that he already knew the answer.

"In a secret hole in the floor of the trunk that you open with the glove compartment? Seems a little elaborate." Jason leaned into the trunk and slowly pulled the piece of floor free, staring down into the hole. "Holy shit," he whispered, taking a step back in surprise.

"What?" Tommy leaned in and peered into the hole himself.

It was a veritable armory. There were at least seven firearms immediately visible – Tommy could identify three Sig Sauer pistols, a shotgun and at least one semi auto. They were stashed under the floor of the trunk, each one occupying a rack that seemed to have been built specifically to accommodate it. He whistled through his teeth as he examined them before something else caught his eye. Frowning, Tommy reached behind him and blindly gestured to Jason to come forward. "Jase? You might want to take a look at this."

Jason's head suddenly appeared next to Tommy's; the former White Ranger lifted a hand and pointed into the hole. Jason followed his finger and narrowed his eyes in bewilderment.

"The hell is that?"

In the midst of all the normal weaponry, there was one that neither of them knew what to make of. It appeared to be a single piece of metal colored a bright silver; a thin handle with four depressions for grip widened and flattened into a round, smooth barrel about six inches long. The muzzle of the weapon was a hole the size of a golf ball, perfectly round and attached to the barrel seamlessly. The only thing remotely resembling a trigger was a small button on the back end of the barrel, the only part of the weapon that appeared to be detachable. Jason was reminded of the guns they gave you when you played laser tag.

Just as Tommy reached out a hand to pick the thing up, Kim came up behind them. "What you guys got back here?"

Neither of the two men responded; Tommy simply cradled the weapon in his gloved hands and lifted it gently out of the trunk. "God, it weighs almost nothing," he muttered, turning to present it to Kim.

Kim's face immediately darkened. She ran her eyes over the strange shape of the object in Tommy's hands and said softly, "Who the hell _was_ this guy?"

* * *

**Unknown Location  
****Somewhere Outside Angel Grove, CA  
****July 10, 2012  
****10:50 AM**

Billy rested his elbows on the desk in front of him and leaned forward, pressing his chin into his hands. He blinked rapidly, his eyes growing watery and sore from staring at a computer monitor for the last half hour straight. Toward the end of his conference call with the others gathered at Jason and Kim's, Billy had wandered back into his lab and began working on accessing the facility's self-contained server network. That photo he had seen Blaylock carrying had stuck in his head, and he couldn't resist at least making an effort to figure out how his boss had gotten his hands on crime scene photos – and such bizarre ones at that.

As he groaned softly and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand, the image he'd happened to get a look at floated back to the forefront of his mind again. Something about the man in that picture and the strange wounds to his torso had seemed so familiar to him…Billy hadn't been able to see the face of the corpse for more than a single fleeting glance, but the itch at the back of his mind that he knew more about that picture than he realized refused to go away. He let out a breath and raised his head to stare into the monitor again. Searching the conventional way had gotten him nowhere. He'd had no expectations, but he was reluctant to attempt the alternative; hacking into Blaylock's personal account in order to access the general's private files wasn't just immoral and sneaky, it was a thousand different kinds of illegal. Not to mention the fact that the last few people who'd been caught doing something similar had never been heard from again. Privacy was something the Defense Department generally tended to value highly, a policy not lost on the Extraterrestrial Research and Containment Agency, or ERECA, the top-secret organization in whose headquarters the former Blue Ranger now found himself employed.

Sighing softly, Billy straightened in his chair and rolled his shoulders. Normal channels had uncovered exactly nothing; it was time to put up or shut up. Cracking his knuckles and wiping his moist palms on his pants, he glanced furtively at the security cameras that sat perched in every corner of the ceiling like hungry bats, waiting to pounce at the slightest hint of shady activity. He had positioned his monitor here deliberately, angled it so that none of the cameras could see what he was working on. Blaylock had been pissed when he first found out, but Billy had been insistent, and the results he'd produced must've spoken for themselves – Dr. Cranston had been granted an unheard of level of professional privacy within ERECA's walls.

The extra privacy might've seemed too good to be true for most, but to Billy it was simply a condition of his work. Jason hadn't been wrong – several of the machines in this very room were things Billy had smuggled back from Aquitar with him, and while he could explain away their odd appearances, it was much harder to do so for the impossible feats of scientific prowess they enabled him to perform. Not only that, but he was blessed with a supply of resources – he referred to them cryptically in his notes as "raw materials" – that could never be allowed to see the light of day. Thus Billy had required the maintenance of a bubble of isolation that separated his work from access by anyone without his say-so. The arrangement had run smoothly for a while, but now, with what he was about to do...moving forward from here would, from the Agency's perspective, constitute treason. He was literally risking everything by doing this.

Another thought occurred to him then, staying Billy's hand as he reached for his keyboard. _What about Jason?_ Out of everyone in their group, he was the one in the best position to help his friend, and he would need the Agency's resources to do it. If he did something stupid and got caught, he wouldn't be the only one to suffer; Jason and everyone around him would be placed in steadily increasing danger by something they had no idea how to combat.

_But would Jason approve of receiving assistance from a group with a malicious ulterior motive?_ Billy knew the answer to that question. Before he could help Jason, he had to make sure that going through the Agency was the best, safest – and most trustworthy – route to take. The thought steeled his resolve, and the former Blue Ranger exhaled slowly, raising his hands to the keyboard again, and took the plunge.

Billy's fingers flew across the keys, moving almost too fast for the human eye to register. Finding a way around the compound's self-contained security was far too easy; he'd have to find a subtle way to clue them in on it later. If there was a later. Blaylock's personal firewall, on the other hand, was much more imposing. Billy wasn't surprised – the guy was in charge for a reason – but still, as he prepared the series of commands that would activate a program to tear down the firewall, he found himself hesitating.

_Something's wrong here_, Billy thought, watching as the cursor blinked on the screen as if urging him to continue. Sure, the personal security around Blaylock's account was far more robust than the general Agency security, but that wasn't saying much. If this program worked, he'd have gotten full access to Blaylock without hardly batting an eye. Was there something he was missing? Something he didn't know that he needed to consider before proceeding?

After a moment of anxious indecision, Billy finally shook off the uneasiness. It was logical for Blaylock's security to be somewhat porous – after all, he was a very busy man, with a lot of other things on his mind, and like the others here he probably figured the facility, as top secret as it was, would provide protection enough.

_Maybe from outside_, Billy thought, smirking in spite of himself. _But someone initiating a security breach from within? There shouldn't be any need. Nobody would see it coming._

Growing more and more certain by the second, Billy charged forward, finding himself scrolling through General Blaylock's private files before he had long enough to second-guess himself again. It didn't take him long to find what he was looking for – a whole series of photographs nearly identical to the one he had seen in the hallway. All of them showed corpses with nearly identical wounds to the chest, those two perfectly round holes that looked so familiar, so –

_Oh my god._

Faces had been visible in a few of the pictures, and Billy realized with mounting dread that he recognized them. They had all been ERECA employees, scientists mostly, people who'd helped him on several different projects, brilliant minds with whom he felt a rare camaraderie he'd only found in one other place. He'd thought these people had quit, taken sabbaticals or vacations or…his mind whirled, trying to make sense of what he was seeing, when something else clicked.

_I know what caused those wounds._

It had been three years ago, just after Billy had joined ERECA. They had told him they were developing a new way to perform surgeries and amputations that didn't require blades or metal tools that could become contaminated and lead to infections. Cutting down on sterilization time would also be a valuable timesaver during emergency situations. What they'd ended up with was a small tool that fired a concentrated burst of unearthly energy that cut through skin, bone, and cartilage like they weren't even there. The only problem was that they had found no way of controlling the strength of the energy bursts or how long they lasted, which meant that they would cut through any human tissue they came in contact with.

He thought they'd scrapped it, thrown the thing out as something too dangerous to fuck around with. Clearly he'd been wrong.

If Billy was going to help Jason and his friends, he needed to act fast. Someone was killing his colleagues, using a weapon he himself had helped design. Blaylock was probably launching his own investigation outside the law, the stress of which more than explained his erratic behavior earlier. Silently cursing himself for ever doubting the man's loyalties – or his sanity – Billy leapt up from his chair and began moving rapidly around his lab, making preparations. The contents of this lab were far too valuable, far too powerful, to be allowed to fall into the wrong hands. If he wanted to ensure the safety of his friends and the Agency, certain things had to be taken care of first.


	13. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: **I still don't own Power Rangers or anything related, that's all Saban's thing.

**A/N: **Hey guys! Sorry about the wait, I just started my last semester of college (holy crap) and things are getting crazy. On a related note, updates may become sporadic and less frequent for a while due to said craziness. Anyway, thanks to all the reviewers and anyone who's read this. You guys are what keeps this story going. Enjoy!

* * *

**AGPD Headquarters  
****Downtown Angel Grove  
****July 10, 2012  
****2:00 PM**

"_Good to see you're not fixating on things anymore."_

Jason kicked his legs up onto the desk in front of him, tossing the thick stack of papers he held onto the hard surface with a resounding _thwack_. He leaned back as far as the creaking, wheeled chair he sat in would allow and clapped a hand over his eyes to block out the harsh fluorescent bulbs that filled the huge open space of the AGPD Headquarters' main bullpen with stinging artificial light and the persistent buzzing of a swarm of angry flies. Exhaling sharply, Jason gently rubbed his eyes with his thumb and index finger, trying to ease out the frustrating tedium of the last several hours.

The stack of papers he'd been going through had contained every bit of physical evidence that had been collected at any of sixteen different crime scenes spread across three cities and two states. It wasn't anything he'd never seen before, if he was frank; he just felt himself in desperate need of something to do while he waited for the autopsy results from LA to come back. Kim sat across the table from him, perched on a borrowed stool, peering over the top of the massive brown cardboard box that sat in front of her. She had been poring over old crime scene photos for the last hour and a half, massaging her temples every so often in an attempt to ignore the deafening commotion that seemed to fill every corner of the expansive room like a persistent cloud of smoke. Even whilst focused on his menial diversion, Jason hadn't been able to help but keep a distracted count of her progress – every stack she finished leafing through was flopped unceremoniously onto the table, jarring him out of his blurry concentration.

Jason had just started to doze off when he heard a throat being cleared, followed by his feet being shoved off the table. He grunted and popped one eye open. Tommy stood in front of him, arms crossed in exaggerated annoyance. "Mind keeping your damn feet off the desk?"

Jason flopped his head back against the hard back of the chair. "Right. Sorry. Can only double-check this shit so many times before I start getting hazy."

Tommy chuckled and leaned against one corner of the desk. "How you holding up?"

Jason shrugged. "As well as could be expected, I guess. Nobody kicked my ass or told me never to talk to them again, and neither of you two has looked at me like a rabid dog in the past three hours. I'll count that as a victory."

"Hey," Kim said gently, glancing up from the photo she held. "Give yourself a little more credit. It may have taken you a while, but you did the right thing, just like you always have. The others will be fine. Promise."

"Yeah. It's funny, you'd think they used to deal with this kind of thing all the time," Tommy put in with a wink. He swept his gaze over the desk and gestured to a stack of paper. "I'd have thought you would've memorized this shit by now."

Jason leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and lifting his head to look at Tommy with a devious gleam in his eye. He raised one eyebrow. "You joke now." He turned to Kim. "Right now you're holding a photo of a slender Asian woman, maybe 35, 36 years old, about five foot seven, laying half-in and half-out of the middle stall of a public restroom. The walls are dirty gray concrete, the stall walls are painted dark blue; the stall door nearest the camera is dangling from the top hinge. The woman is wearing a pink blouse and tight-fitting jeans that have been tucked into a pair of those stupid fuzzy boots. Her right arm is folded and her head is on top of her hand, like she's sleeping; her left hand is extended out behind her. She has a silver charm bracelet around her left wrist made of interlocking chain links and one of them is reflecting the camera flash."

When he finished, Jason nodded expectantly at Kim, who slowly turned the picture she was holding and set it on the tabletop, her eyes widening slowly. The photograph matched Jason's description exactly, down to the last detail. Kim chuckled softly in disbelief, mouthing the word "Wow."

Tommy licked his lips a few times and blinked rapidly for a moment before turning to Jason. "Good to see you're not fixating on things anymore."

A broad smile broke out on Jason's tired face; Tommy laughed a little in response and ran a hand through his hair. "Damn, Jase. I don't know if that was awesome or just fucking creepy."

"I'd settle for a little of both," Jason replied, smacking a fist against the inside of his hand. "So, where've you been all this time?"

The former White Ranger grabbed a nearby chair and nearly fell into it. Kim tossed the pile of pictures she held back into the box and slid it away from her across the table so she could get a clear view of Tommy, who leaned forward and spoke to them in the soft terms of a co-conspirator. "We just finished processing John Doe's fingerprints and the ones we pulled off the accident scene."

"I guess it would be too much to hope for an ID," Kim whispered.

"You'd be right," Tommy said grimly. "We ran every database we could think of and came up completely empty." When Kim and Jason exchanged commiserating looks, Tommy added, "Which you two were apparently expecting."

"Par for the course, man," Jason said. "So far I believe we're 0-16 in victim ID. The guys investigating the goddamn Jack the Ripper murders had better luck than we've had."

Tommy could only nod in return. "There's more." Jason and Kim's heads whipped toward him, their expressions a mixture of hope and impatience. "You were right, Jase. The only prints found in the car were our victim's on the knife. The blood on it is the same type as his, too. He gave himself that cut on his forehead."

Jason furrowed his brow and stared at the floor. "Which means he dug that little chip thing out of his own forehead and barely bled as much as a typical nosebleed. How is that even possible?"

No one spoke for a long moment; the only sounds the dull roar of voices from the others in the large room and the loud hum of the lights. Finally, Kim said, "Not to add another dimension of weird to this whole situation, but have either of you considered what this means about what that chip thing probably is?"

"Well, something tells me it doesn't hold the secret to curing Alzheimer's," Jason answered. "And that it most likely wasn't put there voluntarily. Would you dig something out of your own skin if you had it put there on your own volition?"

"I did have this piercing once that got really infected…" Tommy started. Jason cut him off with a playful shove. "Seriously, though, whether it was voluntary or not, whoever put this thing in our guy's head must've had a reason. What the hell is that thing for?"

"You couldn't pull anything off of it?" Jason inquired.

"Oh, yeah, the thing just fit right into my USB port," Tommy snapped. Jason leaned back a little and Tommy's tone immediately softened. "Sorry. No, we couldn't figure out any way to retrieve whatever data might be on the thing since there isn't any obvious input or output port. I swear, it's like the thing's from another planet."

Kim suddenly smiled, reaching over and nudging Jason, who beheld her newfound mirth with confusion. She glanced between the two men sharing the table with her and finally just spat it out. "I think we know someone who can help with that."

Before anyone could reply, the muffled chorus to "Smells Like Teen Spirit" began playing from Jason's pocket. The former Red Ranger reached in and slid out his phone. He tapped the screen gently and brought it up to his ear. "Scott."

Tommy met Kim's eye and raised an eyebrow. "Nirvana?" He mouthed at her.

Kim shrugged and smiled, stifling a laugh. "He's been going through a bit of a nineties nostalgia phase lately. Last week he insisted on hanging a framed poster for _Independence Day_ on the wall in our basement."

"Could've been worse."

"How?"

Tommy leaned in toward her and drew in a long breath for dramatic effect. "It could've been _Titanic_."

"You two will never let me live that down, will you?"

"Depends," Jason said, tapping his phone again and returning it to his pocket. "Will you take that picture of nineties DiCaprio off the desktop on your computer at work?"

Tommy turned to Kim wide-eyed. She shot Jason a death glare. "You swore you wouldn't tell anyone."

He struggled to bite back a laugh. "I'll take that as a no." Suddenly Jason couldn't hold back his laughter anymore; it came in wheezing gasps, shaking his shoulders and turning his face red. Kim crossed her arms and fixed her gaze on him, tapping a foot on the linoleum.

"You done?" She asked after a moment.

Jason looked up at her as he caught his breath. "That was Foster," he said, clearing his throat loudly. "They got autopsy results back."

"And?"

"They found chips just like the one our guy had in seven other bodies. One from each pair. The other half had nothing."

The three of them just stared at each other for a minute. "So what you're saying, then," Tommy said slowly. "Is that there were seven other people with chips just like this one who never got around to having them removed?"

"Yup. And apparently there were eight other people out there with no chips at all who somehow ended up dead too. At least the pattern seems consistent: one person with a chip, one without. Every time. Our guy seems to be the only one who ever cut it out; I don't think it's a coincidence that there was such a gap in both time and distance between him being found and the body before him."

"Or that we found his car wrapped around a light pole three blocks away from the crime scene," Tommy added.

Kim rose suddenly to her feet and began gathering up the papers she and Jason had brought in with them. The two men watched her, bewildered. "We should go," she said, noticing their looks. "This is getting us nowhere. Until we figure out what those chip thingies are we have no idea what we're dealing with here. We need to get a hold of Billy sooner, rather than later." She picked up the box and started for the door. Jason and Tommy shot amused glances at each other before standing and following her.

As the threesome approached the door, Tommy nudged Jason with his elbow and gestured to Kim. "Hey Jase," he said cheerfully, waiting for the woman in front of him to cock her head toward him before going on. "Who knows? Maybe if Billy figures something out Kim will let you draw her like one of your French girls."

As Jason and Tommy dissolved into a fit of hysterical laughter, Kim rolled her eyes and took a hand off the box long enough to give them the finger before shoving the door open and storming out. "Arrested development, party of two," she muttered under her breath. Jason and Tommy pushed through behind her, still giggling softly to themselves as the heavy wooden door swung shut behind them.

* * *

**General Peter Blaylock's Office  
****ERECA Headquarters  
****Somewhere Outside Angel Grove  
****July 10, 2012  
****2:30 PM**

Peter Blaylock had never considered himself a man to be easily shaken. Six tours of duty: Vietnam, Panama, Desert Storm, Kosovo, that whole shitstorm in Somalia, and not even so much as a nightmare, let alone one of those obnoxious cases of PTSD that seemed to pop up around every corner like trailer trash relatives. He'd put bullets into kids less than half his age, jumped out of planes surrounded by enemy fire without much more than a rusty revolver and a canvas backpack he hoped to god had a parachute in it; if he concentrated, he could still bring to mind the sensation of another man's neck breaking under his hands. All of that, not to mention three-plus decades of almost constant women problems and a heaping side dish of Daddy issues, and the only real psychological scars he would own up to were a tendency toward suspicion and that lingering paranoia that develops after a few weeks spent dodging sniper fire. Blaylock prided himself on his ability to stay cool, calm and collected long after all kinds of shit had hit all kinds of fans, and anyone he worked with would tell you the man thrived under pressure, had an almost innate ability to filter out stress that would fracture the sanities of lesser men.

But god damn it, this whole fucking mess was on the short track to driving him crazy; and not the easy, adorably senile grandpa kind of crazy, either – full-on Charlie Manson crazy. Blaylock tossed the manila folder haphazardly filled with clandestinely acquired police and FBI crime scene photos across the top of his desk, watching with a detached sense of amusement as it fluttered open, its contents scattering like roaches under a light bulb. Massaging his temples, Blaylock began pacing the impressive length of his office. His nervous footsteps soon began wearing tracks into the dull grey carpet that lined the floor. He couldn't remember the last time a project had gone so incredibly FUBAR. The general tugged his tie knot down and undid his collar. He clasped his rapidly moistening hands behind his back and stopped in front of the massive collection of weaponry that sat on display on the far wall of the office.

Blaylock sighed as he let his gaze drift over his exhibit. Sixteen bodies they'd have to account for now. He found himself wishing he'd just gone with his gut and ordered the first body disposed of as usual, gotten the whole thing over with; but he'd gotten jumpy, felt compelled by the very human instinct for covering one's own ass to order the asset assigned to the first target terminated as well, figuring that if what he'd been assured about the operatives was true, not only would the bodies deny identification but he could distance himself somehow from a project he'd felt reservations about from day one. Unable to identify the bodies, unable to determine the mysterious cause of death, law enforcement personnel would eventually just give up and let the case go cold.

Though that presumed there'd only be the two bodies. But scientists had continued to flee, refusing to continue with the project and believing themselves capable of outsmarting a top secret agency with infinite government support behind it.

Even he'd been surprised at how quickly the situation had escalated – the brain-drain of eight dead scientists was bad enough without having to wade through five separate jurisdictions worth of damage control – as well as the persistence of the FBI investigators. Evidently, when Special Agent Jason Scott sank his teeth into something, the fucker didn't let go. Even now, despite the agency's continued attempts at sabotage, the son of a bitch had dug in like an Alabama tick.

And now word had reached him that somehow Bravo 7 had self-deactivated. They had assured him it was impossible; he'd been given promise after promise by all number of scientists, military personnel and yes-men in thousand dollar suits and shit-eating grins that the control over the assets, once established, would be absolutely unbreakable unless severed by a controller.

_Well apparently somebody forgot to carry a one somewhere and we ended up chasing the fucker halfway across California._ Blaylock reached his left hand out, still letting his focus wander, and let his fingers come to rest atop a Beretta that sat on a hook near the bottom of the showcase. He closed his eyes and pressed down on it; the hook slid down the wall about four inches and a door about a foot square clicked open in the panel directly in front of Blaylock's face. He lifted his head and swung the door open. The contents were unassuming: a small stack of neatly collated documents sat beneath a mahogany box with a tiny golden keyhole in its front. The only other items in the little secret cubby were a bottle of very expensive whiskey and a crystal glass; Blaylock removed these, poured two fingers of the whiskey into the glass, and swirled it a little while he replaced the bottle and pressed the door shut. He tossed his head back and downed a swig of the amber liquid, reveling in the burn it left behind as it went down. He was about to take another when his phone chirped from his desk.

Crossing the office again, Blaylock set the glass down at the edge of his mahogany desk and reached for the phone that lay near his keyboard. He had a secretary, of course, for official calls, but this was his private line; the only people who had this number were those in positions of top priority. That was why he didn't bother to check the caller ID, simply raised the phone to his ear and said, "Yes?"

"Sir." The voice on the other end of the phone was hushed, its every word accompanied by a soft burst of static as the speaker breathed into the mike. "The search of Bravo's car was far more thorough than we first thought. The vehicle's armory has been compromised. Attempts to recover the contents were unsuccessful."

"Did you get the chip?" Blaylock demanded impatiently.

"Negative. Oliver hasn't let the thing out of his sight since he got back from the accident site. And those two FBI agents haven't left him alone, either."

"That would be the Scotts, I presume," Blaylock muttered. _I'm sure Agent Scott was quite excited to finally have a bone dangled in his face._ Aloud, he said, "It's been three hours since Tango 9 reported in from the crash site, more than seven since Bravo's body was discovered, and all I've asked you to do since then is recover the damn chip before the AGPD techs got their hands on it. Do you mean to tell me you've been active in the Department for more than four months and you couldn't figure out a way to get it out of there?"

There was a pause. When the other man next spoke, his voice held a tinge of anxiety. "It gets worse, sir."

Blaylock said nothing, just waited for a long moment, letting the silence grow more and more uncomfortable before the other man couldn't help but break down and fill it. "They…the three of them walked out of the building about an hour ago. I was held up by another officer and couldn't pursue without risking my cover –"

"You think I give a shit about your cover at this point?" Blaylock nearly shouted. "You're lucky I don't activate your ass right now and steer you after them like a goddamn RC car. Only reason I don't is to avoid wasting a perfectly good controller on what should be basic recon." Blaylock stopped to let his words sink in before continuing, a little softer now. "Luckily for you we have addresses for all three of them. First chance you get, you follow them and bring me that fucking chip. They _cannot_ figure out what it is or this whole operation is shot to hell. You got that?"

"Y-yessir," the other man replied, unable to hide the tremor in his voice. Blaylock tapped the screen to disconnect and tossed the phone onto his desk. He stepped slowly around the desk and nearly fell into his chair. He rested his elbows on the desk and buried his face in his hands.

"Christ," he whispered, lifting his head slowly and running both hands through his thinning hair. The only reason he had to go through this whole routine in the first place was to maintain the confidentiality of this agency; it was times like these he wished to God he'd just accepted that offer from Homeland Security and spared himself the trouble.

Blaylock downed the last of his whiskey and booted up his computer. Immediately he received two different alerts – one was a message from one of the security personnel, but since it wasn't marked as urgent, he disregarded it for the time being in favor of the other, which seemed much more pressing. The second alert was a notification from a program he'd designed himself (he wasn't about to let that second major in computer science go to waste). The program's function was essentially that of a digital security camera – if anyone managed to gain access to Blaylock's private files, the program was activated with no way for the intruder to know; it then proceeded to track the intruder's every move, letting them look at whatever they wanted but recording for Blaylock exactly what they'd looked at. The program was now telling him someone had done just that in the last two hours.

Frowning, Blaylock clicked the notification and began scanning through the recording, examining exactly which files had been viewed. His eyes widened as the crime scene photos from the ongoing FBI/AGPD investigation of the asset terminations began scrolling across the monitor, the exact photos which at this very moment littered the floor around his feet; when one particular image appeared, along with a label indicating that it had been viewed for nearly ten minutes, the general slammed a fist down on his desk. The crystal glass shook, as did his phone, from the force. It was _that _photo. The one he'd dropped in the hallway, the one Cranston had asked him about –

Cranston.

_Shit_.

Blaylock's hand shot out so hard he almost knocked the intercom off his desk. Just as his finger brushed against the call button, he noticed that the other alert, the one he'd ignored, referred to Cranston as well. The subject heading read, "re: Cranston's phone call." His hand shaking, Blaylock opened it and found a transcript of a call Cranston had received a few hours earlier. It seemed trivial.

Then he noticed the names.

_"Sorry, Kimberly."_

_"Jason and I are calling everyone to a meeting at our place to, uh…explain some things."_

No way. No way in hell.

Cranston knew the Scotts. Very well, by the look of things; even though he only saw first names here, Blaylock knew in his gut that he was right. Not only had Cranston violated the privacy of his personal files, he had a close personal relationship with two very serious threats to the security of the agency.

Blaylock closed the transcript and drummed his fingers on the desk. He'd really thought Cranston would've cut and run when the others did, but somehow the brilliant bastard had been so focused on his own work that he hadn't noticed anything around him. At the time, Blaylock had actually been happy – Cranston's results were undeniable, his easy acceptance of authority figures invaluable; those two things together had convinced Blaylock to grant the man his ludicrous request to keep some of his methods and resources a secret. Or so he'd thought. The doc had picked the worst possible time to suddenly develop a rebellious streak. It was clear now that he'd become a liability.

The general calmly reached out and pressed the intercom button, inquiring of his secretary whether Dr. Cranston was still in the building. No, came the reply a moment later, he left half an hour ago. "Poor guy's been here for two days straight," the secretary added. "Bout time he went outside; you'd think he'd spent his entire life in dark underground labs staring at computers."

He let her ramble on, his face slowly forming into an expression of steely resolve. Cranston had proven that he couldn't really be trusted. He'd have to be dealt with – but first things first.

It was time for full disclosure.


	14. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything here you recognize from TV. Saban owns all things Power Rangers related.

**A/N:** Thanks to everyone who's read, reviewed, followed or favorited this story. You guys rock. This chapter has this story's first major action scene, which I REALLY love writing. If you guys enjoy reading this even half as much as I did writing it, this should be your favorite chapter so far. Enjoy!

* * *

**In Transit  
****Angel Grove, CA  
****July 10, 2012  
****2:30 PM**

"_Speaking of things that aren't OK, where the hell is Jason?"_

The insistent ringing of Billy's cell phone snapped him out of the state of near autohypnosis one tends to experience when driving for long stretches of time over unchanging terrain. The road between ERECA headquarters and Angel Grove was almost completely barren, surrounded on both sides by desert. The only part of the drive that was ever the least bit memorable was the three or four mile stretch where Billy could make out the mountains where the old Command Center had stood, hidden among the peaks like a secret temple in an Indiana Jones movie.

Billy rubbed his eyes with the heel of one hand and dug the phone out of his pants pocket. Without turning his gaze from the road, he felt around for the answer button and pushed it before raising the phone to his ear. "Cranston."

"What is it with our group nowadays and going by last names?" Kimberly's voice had a definite edge to it; the frustrated grunt that punctuated her sentence seemed to support it.

"What did Jason and Tommy do this time?" Billy felt an amused smile creep onto his face despite himself.

Suddenly Kim was perky and cheerful again – far too much so. "Oh, nothing Kat and I won't eventually pay back tenfold." Billy winced; he could practically hear the devious smirk in her voice. "Anyway, Billy, I was hoping we could pick your brain for a minute. We've come across something that seems a little, uh…out there…and we need someone we can trust to tell us what the hell we're dealing with here."

"This is a fortuitous coincidence," Billy replied happily. "I happen to be on my way back to Angel Grove as we speak with a device that should enable us to pinpoint the source of Jason's ailment. I should be there in approximately twenty minutes."

Kim laughed. "Awesome! OK, meet us at Tommy's house in about half an hour. Sound good?"

"Prodigious," Billy answered. "See you guys then."

"Billy, wait!" Kim exclaimed just as he was about to hang up. "Look, I want to apologize for trying to pry into your life before. I understand that what you do is important and I figure after so long keeping my own life a secret I shouldn't question what you can or can't tell me about yours but…" Kim sighed loudly. Billy felt an urge to speak up but she barreled on before he could find words. "Billy, you know you can trust us, right? I mean, that's not what this is about, is it?"

"Of course not, Kim," Billy replied quickly. He hesitated for a moment, finding himself suddenly torn by indecision. Finally he said, "I trust you guys with my life. I just really enjoy the work I've been doing and these people made me sign a confidentiality agreement that I don't want to risk violating. I know you would never betray my trust but I can't risk losing this job. You understand, right?"

"You know I do, Billy. We're just a little worried that none of us know where you are or what you're doing half the time."

"How about this," Billy said, switching the phone to his other hand. "If the people I work for ever want me to keep something secret that I don't feel comfortable with, whoever I get a hold of first between you and Jason will be the first to know."

Kim chuckled softly. "Thanks, Billy. See you in twenty." Billy heard a soft click as Kim ended the call. Smiling to himself, he tossed the phone onto the passenger seat, where it bounced against the small piece of complicated machinery that sat there. The scanner he'd brought back from Aquitar didn't function exactly like that ones from the old Command Center, but it was fast, accurate and got the job done.

Billy turned back to the road before him. Twenty more minutes before his heartbeat could slow down again; twenty more minutes before his palms could stop sweating.

_Twenty more minutes and I'll be closer to a decent night's sleep than I've been in the last week._

* * *

**Oliver Residence  
****Angel Grove, CA  
****July 10, 2012  
****3:00 PM**

"God, I feel like an idiot." Jason stood in the middle of Tommy's living room, arms spread wide, trying to be as still as he could while Billy took some kind of reading from him with a small piece of machinery that vaguely resembled a satellite dish. Billy had told him to hold his palms perpendicular to the floor, look straight ahead, and keep his feet together. It had only taken about thirty seconds for things to start feeling awkward.

"I dunno, Jase, I mean, you always did kinda have a God complex," Tommy called out from across the room, where he, Kat and Kim watched the whole thing from their seats at the island in the middle of the small kitchen. "I'd have thought you'd feel right at home in a Christ pose." Kat and Kim giggled; Jason groaned and felt his cheeks start to burn.

"You guys can all just go straight to hell," Jason grumbled. Tommy grinned even wider and opened his mouth to mock some more when Billy's device beeped loudly.

"Please tell me that's Scotty coming to beam me off this planet," Jason said, letting his arms fall to his sides. Billy raised an eyebrow at him. "What? Clearly the indigenous life is hostile." Jason gestured over his shoulder with his head.

"Oooohh, _indigenous_. Somebody's using their SAT words," Tommy said, grinning.

"Bite me."

As Kat shook her head and chuckled, Billy stopped fiddling with the scanner and looked up at them. "Guys."

Jason turned. Billy's face had gone white.

"What?" Jason asked, frowning. "Billy, what's wrong?" In what had become a far too familiar occurrence lately, Jason felt a knot of anxiety beginning to form in the pit of his stomach. Kim moved around the counter and came up beside him, sliding her hand into his.

Billy sighed. "I thought we were done dealing with this kind of shit when we stopped being Rangers."

Jason cracked a cynical half smile. "Billy, I swear to god if the next sentence out of your mouth is any combination of the words 'Tommy,' 'evil spell,' or 'kidnapped,' I will personally kick your ass all the way back to Aquitar." Tommy rolled his eyes and flipped Jason off from behind.

Billy didn't even smile. "I wish it was that easy." He swallowed and licked his lips, a bead of sweat running down his forehead.

Now Tommy and Kat came up beside Jason and stared at Billy, concerned. "Billy, what's going on? What's wrong?" Kat's voice was barely audible.

Billy glanced down at the scanner again, then back at his four friends. After a moment, his gaze settled on Jason. "Tommy's not being turned evil this time, Jason," he said. "You are."

Before any of them had time to respond to that, something came crashing through one of the windows by the front door. The five former Rangers watched as a small black object the size of a baseball bounced to a stop at their feet, leaving a wispy trail of white fog behind it.

"What the hell?" Kat peered out through the newly broken window, searching the street for where the thing had come from. Jason and Tommy exchanged looks, their eyes widening as the realization hit.

"Oh fuck me," Jason muttered.

"GAS!" Tommy grabbed the small canister and heaved it back through the window just in time for the front door to be knocked off its hinges. Four men wearing dark leather jackets and built like linebackers came charging into Tommy's living room, bursting through the doorway like blood from an artery. They moved with military precision, hurtling toward the startled ex-Rangers, their intent clearly written in the deadly scowls on their faces.

* * *

The man at the head of the line lowered his shoulder and slammed into Kat, carrying her for nearly four feet before throwing her down hard onto a coffee table. Kat cried out in pain as the edge of the table dug into her back; the man on top of her clamped a hand over her mouth and forced her head back against the table's surface before pulling something out of his belt. Kat saw the object gleam in the light and realized with horror that it was a knife – a huge one, the six inch blade curved and serrated. Acting purely on leftover Ranger instinct, she swung one leg into the man's groin. When he staggered forward, she bent both legs at the knee and kicked the man's chest with both feet; the momentum threw him off of her and sent her flipping backwards over the table. As she went over, Kat planted her hands on the table, curling her fingers around the edges. The second her feet were planted on solid ground again, the lithe Australian hefted the table in front of her like a shield.

It was a good thing she did, too – her attacker had already recovered and thrust the knife forward, right into where her chest would've been. Instead, he buried the blade into the bottom of the table. Kat wasted no time. She wrenched the table one way, then the other, yanking the knife free of the man's grip and tossing both off to the side. The move threw the attacker off balance, leaving him momentarily stuck on his heels as he crossed one leg over the other to stay standing. Kat dropped to the floor and spun into a sweep kick, knocking the man's legs out from under him. He toppled over, landing hard on the carpet.

Kat hopped to her feet and prepared to finish the job, but the man was on his feet with inhuman speed. He rushed her again, swinging fists the size of cinder blocks. Kat dodged one punch, then jumped back to avoid another, waiting for her chance. She got it when he aimed a punch straight for her face. Throwing one leg out behind her, Kat ducked into a crouch, her dancer's body coiling like a spring. As the man's arm passed over her head, she shot back up, driving her fist into his extended arm. The man grunted in pain, his arm wind-milling away from her. Kat stepped forward and whirled, slamming her elbow into her attacker's jaw. The man's head whipped to the side, a fine mist of blood spraying from his mouth. Letting her momentum carry her forward, Kat pivoted on the toes of her left foot and swung the right into the man's face, sending him sprawling to the floor.

As Kat tried to catch her breath, she felt a jolt of pain go through her foot, and another through her elbow. She winced and staggered backward, gripping her arm to her chest. Panting, she looked up to see her attacker already climbing to his feet, his back turned to her.

_What the hell? Tommy taught me that move himself, this guy should be unconscious right now._

Kat tensed, reluctantly readying herself to fend him off again. The man turned slowly around to face her – and raised a weapon unlike anything she'd ever seen before. It was made of a shiny silver material that glinted in the light just as the knife blade had; she stared into a perfectly round barrel the size of a golf ball. As her attacker advanced toward her, his lips curling into a menacing grin, Kat took an involuntary step back and groaned under her breath.

"Oh, bloody hell."

* * *

When the first of the group of mysterious attackers rushed Kat, Tommy spun and dove for her, screaming his fiancé's name. The second man through the door grabbed him around the shoulders before he'd taken two steps and twisted violently to one side, throwing Tommy across the room and up the single stair that divided the living room from the kitchen. His ankle caught the lip of the tile floor, and Tommy was sent careening into the island that took up the center of the small kitchen, spots blossoming before his eyes as his head slammed against the wood. Tommy shook his head frantically, managing to regain his wits just in time to see his attacker aim a vicious kick at his face; the former White Ranger dove aside just as the kick landed, his attacker's boot splintering the polished wood.

Tommy kipped up to his feet, grimacing at the damage. "Oh, you are _so_ gonna pay for that," he breathed as he moved toward his opponent, fists raised. The man turned and readied himself, beckoning Tommy forward.

Tommy's roaring adrenalin got the best of him. He bit, charging forward only to have the man slide out of his way, sticking out a foot as he went. Thrown off balance, staggering forward, Tommy was in no position to defend himself as the man put one hand on his shoulder and the other on the back of his head; he felt himself shoved violently forward and just barely managed to lift his chin at the last second so he took the brunt of the impact into the cabinets with his chest. The wind was driven from Tommy's lungs, the force of the collision causing his vision to tunnel for a moment. As he stood slumped against the counter, he saw his attacker turn and approach what it seemed had been his target all along – the box containing all of Jason and Kim's evidence they'd brought home to review, including the chip they'd planned to ask Billy about. The guy dug through the box for a moment before pulling his hand out and grinning; Tommy exhaled sharply at the sight of the chip glinting in the light. The guy turned and smiled deviously at him before hopping over the step and charging back out the door the way he came.

* * *

Jason and Kim stood back-to-back, circling slowly around each other as two of their foes attacked them in sporadic harmony, sending in an endless barrage of blows that seemed uncoordinated but were timed too perfectly not to have been planned. Jason had shoved Billy aside the moment the group had charged through the door; he'd lost track of him after that.

"Is it just me," Jason grunted as he batted a punch aside and jabbed his opponent in the stomach, "or is this shit really starting to get repetitive?"

"Less talkey, more punchey!" Kim exclaimed, finding an opening and snapping a front kick into her attacker's chest, staggering him back a few feet. Jason was about to respond when he saw a third man run past behind the one he now squared off with, right out the open doorway.

"He took the chip! He's getting away!" Tommy called from the kitchen. Jason saw his friend pointing a frantic finger at the empty doorway; his opponent was distracted by Tommy's yell, and Jason moved in, grabbing twin fistfuls of the man's jacket and heaving him toward the kitchen, where he slid across the floor and rolled to his feet near Tommy's position.

"Trade ya!" Jason shouted, glancing at Kim, who had gained Billy's help in holding off the other man. She dared a look in his direction.

"What are you doing?"

Jason clenched his fists. His eyes flashed a blazing shade of crimson. "I'm gonna show that asshole who he's fucking with." His voice was deep and deadly, garbled by a rasping growl.

Kim barely had time to avoid an incoming fist as she turned back to her battle, unable to stop Jason from darting out the door, murder glowing in his eyes.

* * *

Tommy moved around the small island in the kitchen as the man Jason had so graciously thrown his way started to advance toward him. The space was a bit cramped – the kitchen was lined on three walls with cabinets, counter space, and appliances; the island in the middle was mostly flat, including a cooking surface. Above, a rack of pots and pans dangled from the ceiling, leaving about two feet of clearance between the island and the pots. The man was moving closer to him now; Tommy licked his lips and tried to think.

Suddenly, the guy changed directions and sprinted around the counter the other way, closing the distance between him and Tommy in seconds. Tommy froze and waited; at the last second, just as his attacker approached, he stepped back and swung the freezer door open, slamming it into the man's face and dropping him backwards onto the hard tile. The man's head made a hollow _thock_ as it connected with the floor. Tommy leaned over him and smiled. "Learned that one from _Scream_," he said, hopping over the man and moving to the far side of the island. From this vantage point he could see the entire battle unfolding before him. Kat took on one of the remaining men on the far side of the living room; he watched Kim whip the other over the couch into Billy's waiting fist.

As Tommy watched, the man he'd just downed leapt to his feet and moved toward the other end of the island, grabbing Jason and Kim's evidence box. Tommy cursed under his breath; if that guy ran off too, these people – whoever they were – would have everything on this case. There was no way he would allow a security breach like that on his watch.

Tommy didn't even think. He jumped straight up, grabbed the edge of the hanging pot rack, and swung his feet up and forward, propelling himself onto the island so he slid along its surface and flew feet-first into his opponent's chest. The box went flying, pages fluttering to the floor as Tommy landed in front of his enemy, who had been catapulted back down the ledge into the living room.

"Learned that one from Jackie Chan," Tommy said, an excited grin breaking out on his face. That grin quickly faded as his target jumped up again, pulling a gun from his belt.

"Shit." Tommy's face drained of color. He yanked his own weapon from its holster and held his enemy at a standoff; hesitant to use his firearm, however, Tommy felt himself being gradually pushed back into the kitchen, his gun trained on his opponent but his finger away from the trigger. He felt his back press up against the cabinets, an anxious sweat beginning to break out on the back of his neck.

"Put it down," the man growled at him. His voice was venomous, deadly serious and at the same time emotionless, as though the words were not his own. Tommy frowned for a moment before he held his gun out to one side and gently tossed it down in front of him.

His opponent relaxed just the slightest amount, but it was enough. As the gun fell, Tommy bent his right leg inward and swung it up, bouncing the weapon off the side of his foot. The other man flinched and fired two bullets into the space where Tommy's head should've been, but Tommy was already gone. Dropping into a crouch, he snatched his weapon out of thin air, pivoted on his left foot, and spun in a full circle, working his finger into the trigger guard; as he came out of the spin, he steadied his weapon with both hands and fired three rounds dead center into the other man's chest. As his enemy crumpled to the floor, blood already starting to pool beneath him, Tommy rose shakily to his feet and holstered his gun.

"That one…" Tommy frowned; his voice carried an edge of stunned amazement. "Actually, not gonna lie, I have no fucking idea where that one came from."

* * *

At the sound of the gunshots, the hit man – it seemed like the most accurate thing to call them, given the circumstances – who was advancing on Kat stopped and glanced over his shoulder. Out of the corner of her eye, Kat saw the assassin Kim and Billy were fighting do the same. She didn't hesitate. Darting forward, Kat pirouetted and swung her foot into the hand in which her attacker held his weapon, intending to knock it out of his grip and bring this fight back to familiar ground.

Instead, things took a sharp turn for the bizarre. Kat's kick startled the intruder, as she'd hoped, but his grip didn't loosen. As his hand was propelled away from Kat, he jerked reflexively, squeezing the weapon and discharging it in the general direction of Billy and Kim. The entire house was filled with intensely bright light, so white it was nearly blue. Kat threw a hand up over her face to keep from being blinded, but the light was gone as quickly as it had appeared. As she blinked rapidly, willing her vision to clear, Kat realized that her enemy now stood frozen before her, gaping openmouthed in her friends' direction. Everything had gone silent; the commotion of mere seconds before ceasing as abruptly as if someone had hit the mute button.

Expecting the worst, Kat hesitantly flicked her gaze over to the other side of the living room in time to see the assassin who just moments ago had been engaging Billy and Kim crumple to a heap on the floor; she gasped and clamped a hand over her mouth at the sight of the perfectly round hole that had been driven through the man's head, still smoking from the heat of whatever projectile he'd been struck with. Kat realized she could see clear through his skull, from just below his right ear to where she thought his left eye had once been. Inside the wound, steaming brain matter was plainly visible, crinkled folds of grey and pink flesh that looked – and, she noted with disgust, smelled – like partially cooked hamburger. Kat felt bile rising in her throat, her stomach churning at the thought; she distantly noted Kim, Billy and Tommy converging on the last remaining intruder, ordering him to put the weapon down. There was a blur of motion, and Kat barely made out the man twisting the strange device up under his own chin.

This time, when the brilliant flash receded, she couldn't bring herself to look.

* * *

"Holy shit," Kim whispered, staring down at the man before her. The entire front half of his head appeared to have been scooped out, like after someone drags a spoon through the top of a new carton of ice cream. His chin was basically gone, though Kim discovered with a shudder that she could still see his back teeth and the charred remains of his tongue. Where the man's nose had been there was only a hole, the organ completely vaporized by whatever it was that had dug that terrible, sizzling trench through his face.

"Seconded," Tommy muttered, coming up behind her. "Did you see anything?"

"You mean after he pushed the magic ultra-facelift button and we took a trip through the world's biggest flashbulb? No. How about you?"

Tommy chuckled nervously at that and turned towards Kat, who stood with her back to them a few feet away. "Kat? You OK?"

"Not especially, no," Kat replied, her voice choked and shaky. Tommy brushed past Billy and Kim, clapping Billy on the shoulder as he hurried to his fiancé's side and wrapped an arm around her. As the two of them talked in hushed tones and Kat finally buried her face in Tommy's shoulder, Billy shot several concerned glances around the room. Finally, his gaze landed back on Kim.

"Speaking of things that aren't OK, where the hell is Jason?"

* * *

By the time Jason cleared the doorway, his target had already crossed the front yard and was sprinting across the street, his right hand clenched tightly into a fist around the cargo he was carrying. Jason hurdled over a few large bushes that stood near the front door and charged after him, his vision slowly beginning to color as though it was being filtered through red cellophane. He ran with long, leaping strides, his boots pounding into the ground as he lowered a shoulder and put every ounce of power he had into his forward momentum.

Jason's quarry led him across the street and between two other houses. The man he was chasing was built like a football player, broad shoulders and huge arms that funneled into a tight stomach and lean legs. He was bald, perspiration on his head glistening in the sunlight; like his comrades, he wore a black leather jacket and dark cargo pants. A belt around his waist appeared to hold several different objects, much like what one would see on a uniformed police officer. As Baldy reached a fence, he swung one leg up and cast a glance back at Jason, who noted the way his devilish grin disappeared when he saw the former Red Ranger streaking toward him, his eyes fully ablaze now. Baldy wasted no more time; he awkwardly leveraged himself the rest of the way over the fence and stumbled on through the empty backyard. Jason barely even broke stride – as he approached the fence, he planted his feet and jumped, planting both hands on the fence and vaulting over, hitting the ground running.

He was closing ground fast, and he knew it. His adrenalin was flowing freely, carrying with it a gleeful bloodlust that drove him forward like a predator after prey. Jason felt his rationality slowly drifting away; it was only through extraordinary concentration that he was able to maintain his pace and still keep the slightest grip on his sanity. Breathing harder from the combined physical and mental exertion, Jason took a few milliseconds longer to clear the next fence he came to, but Baldy was beginning to panic a little now; Jason realized with a very distant jolt of dread that he could _smell_ the fear coming off of him, a suffocating reek that struck him as a mix between urine and rotten meat.

As the two men burst out of the yards and onto the next street over, Jason saw through his rapidly darkening vision that Baldy was veering toward a green SUV that sat parked on the opposite curb. His quarry skidded to a stop and closed his fingers around the handle on the driver's side door.

That was when Jason lost it. A surge of adrenalin, anger, exhilaration, and panic shot through him all at once as though deliberately injected into his bloodstream, shattering whatever grip he may have had over his own desires; his mind emptied of everything except the victim before him and the angry red that colored his vision.

Eyes afire, Jason leapt forward, body-checking Baldy into the side of the car like a hockey player. The man let loose a small grunt of pain and surprise; Jason cupped a hand around the back of his head and thrust it forward into the window once, again, again, until cracks began to spiderweb across the glass and his prey moaned weakly, blood seeping from a laceration in his forehead. Jason jerked the man back by the collar of his jacket and heaved him onto the ground, pressing a foot down on his throat. Baldy began to choke, gasping desperately for air and clawing feebly at Jason's pant leg. Suddenly, Jason saw movement from his peripheral vision. He glanced down to see that the man's hand had flopped open, revealing the chip that lay inside.

Something about seeing that chip brought things rushing back, and Jason was just able to grab a tiny finger hold of control. He lifted his foot off of Baldy's throat, but as the man tried to sit up, Jason whipped his foot forward, kicking him savagely in the face. The man slumped to the street, motionless.

Gingerly, as though trying to move as little as possible, Jason knelt, plucked the chip out of the unconscious assassin's hand and dropped it into his pocket. Then he lifted the man into a fireman's carry, threw the back door of the car open and laid him on the backseat as gently as his still rage-heightened state would allow. Finally, as the glow in his eyes began to dim, Jason climbed into the driver's seat, located the keys in the visor, and drove the car back to Tommy's house. As he rolled to a stop in front of his friend's front yard, he stole a look back at the half-dead man who lay on the seat, breathing erratically and bleeding from several different places.

Jason sighed, extricating himself from the vehicle and pausing for a moment before retrieving his prisoner. Suddenly he felt a wave of extreme pain crash into him, so intense he had to lean against the car and grip the door handle to keep his balance. His teeth ground together, his eyes squeezed shut, every muscle in his body went as taut as a loaded slingshot. He couldn't even open his mouth to scream – the pain paralyzed him completely. After a long, horrifying moment in which he felt sure his heart would give out from the intensity of the agony, it finally began to subside. Jason slumped against the SUV, gasping for air. It took him several minutes to compose himself enough to lift the unconscious man from the backseat and carry him up the lawn to the front door.

The moment Jason crossed the threshold he felt his legs begin to give out. He managed a couple more staggering steps forward before he moaned, "Guys. I think…" and collapsed to the floor, Baldy's limp form rolling unceremoniously onto the floor. As his friends crowded around him, Tommy yelling his name, Kim gripping his hand in her own, Jason had time to think, _Staggering into a room after a battle and passing out. Didn't I do this once already?_

The last thing he felt before darkness claimed him was the back of his head falling back onto the carpet.


	15. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer:** Power Rangers and everything related is property of Saban. I only own plot and things you don't recognize from the show.

**A/N:** Hey guys, been a while. Sorry about the wait - Real Life reared its ugly head, as it tends to do. Updates may be a bit sporadic for a while, but trust me, I'm having way too much fun with this story and my other one to stop either anytime soon. Thank you all for reading - you guys are awesome.

* * *

**Oliver Residence  
****Angel Grove, CA  
****July 10, 2012  
****5:00 PM**

"_I'm starting to regret asking for your brutal honesty."_

The long, awkward silence that had filled the Oliver living room for the last two hours was shattered by an insistent pounding on the front door, which had been precariously set back in place after Jason had staggered through it, prisoner in tow. Tommy lifted his head slowly from where he'd let it lean against Kat's, gazing listlessly at the floor.

"We have got to stop meeting up like this," he muttered, gently lifting Kat's dozing form off his shoulder and peeling himself off the couch. He stretched a little to alleviate some of the stiffness that had begun to set in; he heard Kat groan softly as she came awake, digging the fingers of one hand into her eyes as she sat up and leaned forward.

"Speak for yourself," Billy replied, folding his arms behind his head. He sat in the recliner across the room, one leg folded over the other. "I wasn't here the last time this happened. This is a whole new experience for me."

"Wanna go back in time and trade?" Kat remarked sarcastically, hugging herself and rubbing her upper arms as Tommy moved toward the door. Billy smiled and shook his head.

Tommy had barely pulled the dangling door toward him before Zack basically shoved him aside and forced his way into the room. Tommy jumped in front of him and held a hand out to stop him.

"Where is he?" Zack demanded, shoving Tommy's hand away and pushing past him again. "Where the _fuck_ is Jason?" Tanya, Adam and Trini filed in behind him, casting inquisitive glances around the room. Their looks turned much more serious when they noticed the state of the room and the three dead men who lay sprawled on the floor.

"He's back there, sleeping," Kim said from the hallway, jerking a thumb over her shoulder. "We were attacked and he passed out from…something. As you can probably tell, these guys didn't mess around."

"No shit," Adam said quietly, gazing down at the man who'd shot off a large portion of his face.

Zack let out an angry sigh and sank onto the couch. "Great. More people trying to kill us. Have I mentioned I was done with this a long time ago? Because I moved to fucking Switzerland once to get away from this bullshit and I do not appreciate having it back in my life again."

"Being Rangers was never something we could just walk away from," Trini said absently, examining one of the bodies with her hands on her hips. "I always kinda thought it would just be a matter of time before it came back to bite us on the ass."

"That would be putting it mildly." The assembled former Rangers jerked their eyes toward the hallway to see Jason, wearing nothing but a pair of borrowed green athletic shorts and a wife beater, leaning against the corner. He made a sweeping gesture around the room. "These guys were pros; they knew exactly what they were looking for, they knew exactly where to find it and they certainly seemed more than willing to kill us if they had to." He scanned the room again and frowned. "Where's the guy I came in with?"

Billy, Tommy and Kat shared a nervous glance before Billy spoke up. "He, uh…" he stammered a little, trying to find words. "We took him down to the basement and tied him to a cot, but he died about half an hour ago from, uh…" He trailed off and looked up at Jason, offering a helpless shrug.

"Let me guess – head trauma," Jason said, leaning his head against the wall. Billy sighed and nodded. "Shit."

"You said before they knew exactly what they wanted," Tanya noted, suddenly seeming to realize the others had been talking. "What would that be?"

"This." Billy held up the chip for all of them to see. He turned back to Jason. "I took it out of your pocket when you came back. I assume you…"

"Yeah," Jason finished curtly, closing his eyes. Tommy put his hands in his pockets and gestured toward the evidence box he'd replaced on the counter.

"That guy didn't waste any time. He went right for the box and then right for the chip."

"I was about to ask why you guys hadn't called the cops yet," Adam said. "But I think it's pretty obvious now. The only way they could've known to come here is if they knew from an inside source."

"Well this day just keeps getting better and better," Jason muttered, running a hand over his face.

"Wait a second," Trini spoke up. "How long ago did all this happen?"

"Couple hours," Kim replied. At Trini's incredulous glare, she added, "We would've called you guys sooner but by the time we'd made sure Jason was OK, tied the fourth guy to the cot downstairs and tried to get some kind of information out of him, over an hour had passed. And even then, the four of us who were here took a while to come to an agreement on whether or not to call anyone. We pretty much came to the same conclusion you did."

"By the way, where are Rocky and Aisha?" Jason piped up.

"They're at home sleeping. Rocky hasn't slept in over a week and Aisha finally got him out. I decided not to wake them when I left," Adam answered. Jason acknowledged this with a nod and Adam turned to Tommy.

"Now what?"

Instead of answering, Tommy looked at Billy, who slipped the chip back into his pocket. "To be brutally honest, I am entirely uncertain as far as how to proceed. This recent turn of events for the violent is quite perplexing –"

"Before we need a thesaurus to keep up with Billy, can I make a suggestion?" Jason broke in. When nobody spoke, Jason straightened, strode across the room, and tugged the knife Kat had been attacked with out of the coffee table. He hefted the blade and knelt beside the body of the man who lay nearby, grimacing at his destroyed face. "I was trying to figure out where these guys came from and I noticed that." Jason pointed with the knife blade toward the strangely shaped weapon that lay next to the body. "Look familiar?"

Kim stepped up beside him and nudged the odd gun with her foot. "Yeah, it looks like the thing you and Tommy found in the trunk of that car."

"What car?" Zack asked, glancing impatiently between Kim, Jason and Tommy.

"The one they found crashed three blocks from the park today," Tommy answered.

"The one the dead guy they found at the park today was driving," Kim added.

"The dead guy at the park who had two perfectly round, perfectly cauterized holes in his chest," Jason finished, his eyes suddenly widening. "Kim, Tommy…" he reached out and poked at the gun with the knife. "I think we just found our murder weapon."

"Wait a minute," Kat interjected, stepping toward Tommy. "You guys have seen this thing used on other people?"

"Sixteen, actually," Jason replied calmly, gently rolling the body toward him. "Half of which had chips just like the one Billy's holding embedded in their foreheads. I think…" he brandished the knife and leaned in toward the dead man's ruined face. "What we need to do…" Jason made a small incision in an undamaged part of the man's forehead, near the left temple, ignoring the disgusted gasps Tanya and Trini couldn't hold back as he slid two fingers into the man's skin and dug around for a moment before slowly extracting something and holding it out in his palm. It was another chip, identical to the one Billy held, lying in a small pool of blood in Jason's hand. "…is check the rest of these guys for chips like this one." Jason glanced around at his assembled friends, his face growing grim. "This may be way bigger than we thought."

* * *

**Oliver Residence  
****Angel Grove, CA  
****July 10, 2012  
****5:30 PM**

The stairs that led down to Tommy's basement from the living room were bare, uncovered wood, an indication of the as-yet-unfinished space that lay at the bottom. Billy's footsteps created a hollow _thunk_ with each step as he descended, letting one hand drag absently along the wall. Soon, the smooth sheetrock gave way to the jagged stucco of the basement ceiling, and Billy pulled his hand back as his fingers brushed against the sharp edge. The room he was entering was dark; the only thing to penetrate it was the rapidly fading evening sunlight that filtered in through the small, grimy window near the ceiling in the far corner. Billy paused at the bottom of the stairs and let his eyes adjust for a moment.

"Jase?" His entreaty echoed off the uncovered walls and concrete floor, ringing in his ears as he stood on the threshold of the bare space. The former Blue Ranger squinted through his glasses at the spot in the room where he could just barely make out the shape of the thin cot that had been pushed against the wall. Atop the cot was the hazy, blurry shape of an unmoving human form; Billy shuddered slightly at the sight of the arm that dangled over one side of the cot, limp fingers splayed out on the cold floor. Another figure sat next to it, hunched over in the small wooden chair Tommy had placed beside the cot. When the second figure didn't move in response to Billy's call, he reached over and fumbled for the light switch, scraping his hand across the uncovered support beams and 2x4's until he found the small metal box…where the switch was already in the on position. Billy frowned and flipped the switch up and down a few times, a soft click the only result of his efforts.

"Damn thing doesn't work," said a deep, smooth voice from across the room. "Tommy must've forgotten to pay his electric bill again."

"Jason?" Billy took a tentative step toward the cot, still struggling to see.

The sitting figure's head swung up to an angle where Billy could believe it was looking at him. "Hey man. You guys all done upstairs?"

Billy moved further into the basement, his soles scraping on the floor. Jason's silhouette was becoming clearer every second, and Billy could tell now that his friend still held the knife he'd used upstairs. Another step forward revealed the freshly made cut across the corpse's left temple, the tiny trickle of blood that ran down one leg of the cot to pool on the floor. Billy stopped about halfway between Jason and the stairway.

"Yes, we've discovered identical chips in each of the other men who attacked us earlier. I came to see whether you needed any help down here."

Jason chuckled bitterly. "Billy, the amount of ways I need help right now is frightening even by Ranger standards."

"Well, at least no one could ever accuse you of half-assing anything," Billy replied with a sardonic smile. "Once a Ranger, always a Ranger, right?"

Jason chuckled again, this time with a heartening dose of sincerity. The curved, deadly blade of the knife he clasped in his fist glinted faintly in the dim light as the former Red Ranger lowered his eyes to the face of the man who lay motionless on the cot before him. After a long moment of silence, Billy spoke up again.

"Jason. Are you OK? You've been sitting down here in the dark staring at a dead man for the past twenty minutes."

Jason sighed loudly. Billy could make out his shoulders slumping against the back of his chair. When Jason spoke, his voice was so soft Billy had to strain to hear him.

"He didn't have a chip," Jason whispered. "I must've stuck my fingers into his forehead up to my palm and I didn't find a goddamn thing." He turned his head slightly toward Billy. "They would've killed us to get away with the chip we found, but…I _did_ kill him for the exact same reason. I'm no fucking better than they are." Jason let out a frustrated grunt and tossed the knife away. It clattered loudly across the floor, eventually skidding to a stop a few feet to Billy's right. The bespectacled young man started to respond, but Jason cut him off.

"Have I ever told you that in the four years I've worked for the FBI I've never even had to pull my gun on someone? Four years, Billy, and the most violent thing I've ever had to do is shove somebody against a wall or put on a show in the interrogation room." He lifted his head now and finally looked Billy right in the eye. "And now, in the span of less than a day, I've killed one person and tried to kill another."

"You weren't yourself, Jason…"

"Yeah, everybody keeps telling me that." Jason rose to his feet and started pacing nervously. "Though I guess I shouldn't be surprised. It's the same canned spiel we used to give anyone who'd just had an evil spell thrown their way and did some shit they felt bad for later. Hell, I've done it myself more times than I can count. But do you remember what I told you guys earlier? This is different, Billy. This is…" Jason gestured vaguely with his hands as he searched for words. Finally, he stopped and let his hands fall to his sides. His head drooped a little. "At its most basic level, at the very core of my whole situation, is the fact that every last bit of power it has comes directly from me. _My_ anger, _my_ hatred, _my_ resentments, everything inside of me that I've had to work my entire life to hide. This isn't something that's being forced on me; it's not some kind of magical manipulation like what happened to Tommy or Kat. This is just letting another side of me out into the daylight. And it's dangerous."

"Jase, it's not the bad parts of you that make you who you are. It's the fact that you've kept them down for so long and that now that they've been dragged out, you own up to them. That's the important thing."

"Yeah, that's what Kim said," Jason replied, a smile in his voice. "And believe me, it means a lot coming from both of you. But that doesn't make it any less dangerous. I have no way of knowing when I'm gonna lose control next; and that puts every single one of you in danger." Jason moved toward Billy now, and in the changing light, Billy could see the tired lines that crossed his old friend's face, the way his jaw seemed too tightly set, the dull glint in his eyes. "You said something a couple of hours ago about me being the one who was turning evil this time, and I seem to remember us being interrupted before you could elaborate. Care to share?" Billy started to talk immediately, but Jason interjected again. "Wait. Before you go on, I have a favor to ask. Don't try to spare my feelings." At Billy's confused look, he went on. "The reason I'm asking you this while we're alone is because out of everyone in our little family, the only one who's never been afraid to lay out the cold hard reality of a situation has been you. Trini, Tanya and Aisha always try to make us focus on something else; Rocky makes a joke out of everything, Kat and Adam are too level-headed to really get worked up over anything, and Kim, Tommy and Zack try to sugarcoat things to the point that they actually risk giving people diabetes. But you, Billy," Jason clapped a hand on Billy's shoulder. "Even when things looked their shittiest, you've never held anything back. You give a new meaning to the phrase 'brutal honesty.' Some people have found that off-putting, but I always valued that, especially as a leader, and I'm sure Tommy did too. You always made sure nobody had unrealistic expectations or underestimated an opponent; we got out of a lot of bad situations because you were there to play devil's advocate. I know I'm putting you a little behind the eight ball here, man, but I need that from you right now. Maybe more than ever. So go ahead, and don't hold back. Trust me," he grinned. "I can take it."

Billy's mouth worked soundlessly for several stunned seconds before he let out a small laugh and ran a hand through his hair. He took a few deep breaths and finally found his voice. "Thank you, Jason," he said. "I…that is quite effusive praise. I only hope my performance in addressing our current situation can adequately reflect your tremendous opinion of me." Jason's grin widened and he gave Billy's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. Billy nodded and continued. "The scan revealed that there is indeed a malevolent alien presence taking up residence in your cerebral cortex. When certain synapses fire or certain hormone levels reach a particular point, the foreign entity is able to assert power over your motor control and conscious thoughts. The scanner also showed that this presence is steadily growing stronger, requiring greater and greater effort to hold back or especially to break free of its control; in fact, the readings I saw indicated that any normal human would've begun to experience near-fatal brain hemorrhages by this point. Have you experienced anything like…?" Billy trailed off as he noticed Jason turn suddenly from where he'd been staring out into space, letting Billy's words sink in. "I'll interpret that as an affirmative."

"Why did you guys think I passed out before?"

"Exhaustion, possibly mental strain from resisting the alien power…"

"I wish," Jason snorted. "Right before I brought that guy into the house, my entire body suddenly felt like it was on fire. It was so intense I could hardly move, I could barely even breathe…by the time it was almost over I thought my heart was about to stop."

Billy sighed. "Shit," he muttered. Jason blanched a little; Billy felt a chill go through him as he slowly met the other man's eye. "It's worse than I thought. This thing should've killed you a long time ago. If we don't do something immediately…" The young scientist ran a hand over his face.

"Jason, you asked me not to hold back, and I respect you too much not to grant you that, so listen to me. This thing _will_ kill you. It's not a question of _if_ at this point, it's a question of _when_. At some point in the very near future, you will lose any ability to fight this thing's power over you. It will turn your anger into what I can only describe as roid rage from hell; you'll spend some indefinite amount of time as a raging, violent maniac with no way of stopping your own rampage. It'll make you watch while you destroy everything you ever cared about and then it will literally tear you apart from the inside out."

Jason needed a minute for that to sink in. After a tense silence that seemed to last hours, he spoke with an undeniable undertone of fury in his voice. "So how soon do we need to do something?"

Billy hesitated for a moment. "Yesterday."

Jason let out another bitter chuckle. "I'm starting to regret asking for your brutal honesty."

"So am I. But there is good news."

Jason raised an eyebrow in the fading light. "Would it have been too much trouble for you to drop that little gem _before_ you gave me a terminal prognosis?"

"I like to save the best for last. Anyway, the good news is that I think I can get the people I work for to help you. They deal with alien technology and science on a daily basis; all the toys I brought back from Aquitar are there, too."

"All right, then. Sounds like a plan."

"There is a catch."

Jason groaned. "Of course there is."

"If I take you in there, you can't ask any questions and I can't tell you anything except what you need to know. I know the investigator in you is going to hate that –"

"No shit."

"But it's the only way they'll let an outsider in. You're just going to have to trust me."

"You and some shady government research division."

"All you need to know is that I will always have your best interests at heart. You do believe that, don't you?"

"Come on, Billy. You know I do." Billy nodded and Jason offered a hand, which Billy clasped with his own. Jason clapped him on the shoulder again and glanced at the stairs. "We should probably head back up now. The others will want to hear about this."

"Right." Billy let Jason's hand drop and turned on his heel, breaking into a slow jog as he approached the stairs. Jason followed, a little less enthusiastically. He watched as Billy climbed the stairs two at a time, wondering if the other man felt his eyes drilling into his blue-clad back.

_He's more than willing to tell me the truth, even if I won't like it – yet he closes off completely when anything about that place he works for comes up, _Jason thought as he gripped the railing and climbed the first couple of steps. A small knot of suspicion had begun to grow in the pit of his stomach.

_So much for brutal honesty._


	16. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: **Power Rangers belongs to Saban. All I own are plot ideas and things you don't recognize from TV.

**A/N: **Sorry this one took so long. Real life and stuff happened. You know how it is. Thanks for reading/reviewing/following/favoriting, everyone. Seriously, you guys are why I keep writing this.

* * *

**Oliver Residence  
****Angel Grove, CA  
****July 10, 2012  
****6:45 PM**

"_If anything happened to him, this whole group might fall apart."_

Seven pairs of eyes zeroed in on Jason and Billy as they emerged from the basement door and strode into the living room. Jason practically fell onto the couch beside Kim, who put a hand on his thigh and stroked it softly. Nobody said anything, but the anticipation in the air was practically solid. Billy wandered over to the high-backed chair near the fireplace where he'd been sitting earlier; Tanya occupied it now, the front of her shirt stained with drops of blood from the makeshift operations they'd just completed.

After a tense minute or so, Zack finally leaned forward and leveled his gaze at Jason, planting his hands on his knees. "Well?"

Jason didn't shift his gaze from the ceiling; he just brought his free hand up to his face and grunted, "Well what?"

Zack rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to speak again, but Adam beat him to it. "Well, what the hell did you find down there?"

"Nothing," Jason said, letting out a long, slow breath.

"Nothing," Tanya repeated incredulously, drumming her fingers on the arm of the chair. "You spent over an hour down there finding _nothing_?"

"Well if you would've let me finish before biting my head off, I could've told you that finding nothing is probably the most important thing we've found today," Jason retorted. Tanya snorted and shot Zack a look of mutual annoyance. Kim glared at Jason and elbowed him hard in the side. He grunted again and continued. "The guy downstairs, the one who tried to take the chip we found? He didn't have a chip of his own. Believe me, I know." Jason held up a hand to show his friends the blood that coated his first two fingers down to the palm.

"So what does that mean?" Tommy asked, leaning against the fireplace, one arm draped over Kat's shoulders. "Every one of the other guys had chips. Why wouldn't he?"

"The man in the basement wasn't just the only one without a chip," Billy supplied. "He was also the only one who actually tried to take the chip Jason, Kim and Tommy found, and once he got it, he ran off immediately, completely abandoning his comrades. Said comrades never even seemed to notice that their compatriot was evacuating without them, they just kept on fighting. The logical conclusion is that the man downstairs was the leader of this group, the one who actually knew what they were coming in for…"

"And the others were just blunt instruments, weapons for him to throw at us long enough for him to accomplish his mission," Trini finished, suddenly paling by several shades.

"Tri, are you OK?" Adam asked, taking a step toward the yellow-clad woman from the doorway.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she insisted, waving him off. "I just, uh…" she made eye contact with Adam and sighed. "Could I get a ride home? I haven't gotten a decent night's sleep in almost three months and this," Trini spread her arms wide in a gesture that encompassed the entire room. "This isn't helping with that."

Adam nodded and turned back to the group as he and Trini headed for the door. "I'm just gonna take her home, OK?"

"Wait!" Jason exclaimed. Adam and Trini stopped and stared at him quizzically as he leaned forward and heaved himself up to his feet. "Before you go. You guys all need to hear this. Billy?" Billy frowned at Jason in bewilderment and Jason gestured to the center of the room in response. "Tell them what you told me. About the scanner readings and what we plan to do about it."

Billy groaned and stood up, shoving his hands into his pockets and looking out at the group assembled before him. "There's a lot of technical exposition required to really set this up and paint a full picture of the situation but everybody here has had a long fucking day and I know none of you are in the mood for that so let me just cut right to the chase. Jason doesn't have much time left."

Adam glanced from Billy to Jason and back. "Much time left before…what?"

Billy let out a long breath through his nose and braced himself. "Before the foreign presence in his brain can't be held back any longer and turns him into an out-of-control killing machine long enough to destroy everything he's ever cared about and then slowly tears him apart from the inside."

Jason spread his arms as if to say _there you go_ before slumping back onto the couch and drawing Kim close; she buried her face into the crook of his neck and he kissed the top of her head. The others just looked at each other for a second.

"Oh," Tommy said. "Well, if that's all…"

"_Tommy_," Kat hissed at him. "Somehow I'd have thought you'd be taking this a little more seriously."

"Of course I'm fucking taking it seriously!" He retorted. "I thought Jason would appreciate a little commiseration." Jason nodded his assent.

"Just so I'm absolutely clear, this is leftover Maligore stuff, right?" Zack had begun to pace, but now he slowed to a stop in front of Billy and crossed his arms.

"I'm not sure," Billy responded. "But then I'm not the one with firsthand knowledge here. Jason?"

"What it is doesn't matter," Jason said firmly, rubbing his hand up and down Kim's upper arm. "What matters is that we don't have any more time to sit here arguing about it. We have to do something right now, or all of you are in danger. Billy was telling me before that he has an idea of something we can do."

"Would this have something to do with that super-secret job you're not allowed to talk about?" Kim asked, regarding Billy with a skeptical look.

The former Blue Ranger nodded slowly and looked at Kim apologetically. "Actually, yes, it does, which means I'm going to have to be sparse with the details. I work at a government facility where most of the technology I brought back from Aquitar with me is stored. The people who work there have been using alien technology to enhance our own for several years now, and I believe that we have the necessary equipment there to resolve Jason's problem."

"Great," Tommy said, stepping toward Billy. "When do we leave?"

"Sorry, bro," Jason cut in. "There's no 'we' this time. It has to be just me and Billy."

"Wait a minute, hold on," Trini interjected, gently pushing away from Adam. "Let me see if I've got this straight. You're going to go – alone – into the headquarters of an organization you know nothing about, let them work on you with alien technology you probably won't even understand, and just go along with whatever they tell you, no questions asked?"

"Hey, I never said I liked it, either," Jason said. "But I trust Billy with my life and I would do anything to keep the rest of you out of danger. Besides, after what happened a few hours ago, what I did to Kim this morning…" Kim leaned over and kissed him gently on the cheek. Jason smiled lovingly at her, his eyes twinkling, before returning his gaze to the group as a whole. "Anyway, I have to put your safety above any objection I might have to this. I have no other choice."

Tanya rose from the chair and moved to stand beside Kat. "Billy, can you at least tell us the _name_ of this secret group you work for?"

Billy smiled sadly. "Sorry, Tan. Since it doesn't technically exist, the name can't be public knowledge."

"Well is there _anything_ else you can tell us?" Zack asked, stepping up next to Tanya and forming a four-person line in front of Billy. This was suddenly looking a lot more like an interrogation.

Billy shook his head. "Sorry, man. This information is classified higher than the White House security schematics. Just telling you about my Aquitian technology being kept at the headquarters is punishable by decades in prison or worse."

"Then what the hell are you still doing there, man?" Adam piped up from his position near the door. "Didn't you get enough of keeping secrets from people when we were Rangers? You're not helping anybody by not filling us in." He looked to Jason. "Jase, come on. You're smart enough to see how shady this whole thing looks. You can't seriously expect us to be OK with this."

"I'm with Adam on this one, Jase," Kat added. "I know you know this is a bad idea. I really don't think you should go along with this."

"If this was anybody else making this suggestion, I would agree with you," Jason said. "But it isn't just anybody, it's Billy. Like I said, I trust him with my life."

"Yeah, but can you trust this government group with all of ours?" Tommy asked softly.

"Bro, Kim and I work for the FBI. I'm _part _of a shady government group. Besides, this isn't your decision to make; it's mine and I've made it. I'm not gonna ask your permission but I had kind of hoped for your support."

"Well you've already thought about this at least ten times longer than you did for any decision you made as a Ranger, and we all made it out of that intact," Kim said with a wink. "Well…mostly." Most of the others nodded.

Trini, though, was having none of it. "I'm sorry, Jason," she said, heading for the door. "God knows I can't stop you but I can't get behind this. Something about it's just putting up way too many red flags. I just wish I could put my finger on what…" the slender Asian trailed off and sent the group a small wave goodbye before sliding Tommy and Kat's dislodged front door aside and heading out into the evening sunlight.

"Trini," Jason called after her, but she was already gone. He slapped his forehead and pulled his hand slowly down his face. "That could've gone better."

Tommy sighed loudly. "Well clearly your mind's made up. None of us are stupid enough to think we can do anything now so…when are you doing this?"

"Tomorrow," Billy answered, sending Jason a questioning look. Jason nodded and rose to his feet.

"Awesome. Now if you guys don't mind, I've been awake since 5 AM and I've been fighting an evil brain tumor for the last five years. I'm going home."

"Not in my clothes, you're not," Tommy said. Jason looked down at himself and smiled.

"Right. Let me go change."

The others watched him go, the broad shoulders and thick torso bobbing slightly as they moved down the hallway and vanished into a bedroom. As soon as he was out of sight, Adam, Kim, Kat, Tanya, Tommy and Zack all turned to look at Billy.

"Listen to me, Billy," Tommy said, moving to within arm's reach of Billy and laying a hand on his shoulder. "That guy in there is like a brother to me; he's the overprotective older sibling most of us didn't have, not to mention a leader, a best friend, a role model, a hero…"

"A fiancé," Kim added.

"Yeah, that too."

"What's your point, Tommy?" Billy asked, puzzled. "I've known Jason even longer than you have; I know exactly how all of you feel about him."

"I know _you_ do, Billy. My point is, I don't trust this group you work for, having been told so little about them. Now obviously, you have Jason convinced, so we won't try to stop you; but if you see _anything_, even the slightest indication that things aren't going as planned, you grab him and get both of your asses out of there. And I do mean _anything_. You got that?" Billy nodded and Tommy leaned in closer. "If anything happened to him, this whole group might fall apart," he whispered in Billy's ear, his voice strained. "And let me make this perfectly clear: that'll be on you." Tommy straightened and looked Billy in the eye. "Got it?"

"You worry too much, Tommy," Billy said. "Everything's gonna be fine."

"It better be," Kim said as Jason returned wearing the red shirt he'd been wearing earlier unbuttoned over his bare chest and dirty slacks, his tie wrapped around his hand like a bandage. Kim motioned him out the door and turned back to Billy. "Just remember, you're handling precious cargo in there." They turned to walk everyone to the door, but Tommy grabbed Billy as he was clearing the threshold.

"If you tell Jason one word of what I just said, I _will_ kill you."

Billy chuckled. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that." Tommy clapped him on the back as he walked past him out the door; he and Kat stood next to each other in the doorway and watched as the cars in their driveway backed out and disappeared, one by one, around the corner.

* * *

**Kwan Residence  
****Angel Grove, CA  
****July 10, 2012  
****7:00 PM**

Adam swung his car into the parking lot of Trini's apartment building and eased into a space. He let the engine idle for a minute and glanced over at Trini, who sat staring into space in the passenger seat.

"Tri," he said gently. She jerked a little and blinked rapidly as though she'd forgotten where she was. "We're here. You OK? You didn't say a word the whole way over here."

Trini didn't answer at first, just turned away and fumbled with the door for a moment before sighing in frustration and falling back into the seat. She turned to Adam and opened her mouth as though about to talk, but hesitated for a moment.

"Adam," she started haltingly. "Come in with me. I think there's something you need to see."

Adam nodded, killed the engine and followed Trini into the building's lobby, into the elevator and down the hall to her door. As the yellow-clad woman reached into her purse for her keys, she began speaking without any warning.

"At first I wasn't sure if this meant anything," she said, unlocking the door and swinging it inward. She stepped through into the darkness, and as Adam followed, the lights clicked on to reveal a glistening, modern kitchen almost entirely composed of mahogany and stainless steel; a round glass table sat in the middle of the moderately sized eating area, six gold-painted chairs surrounding it. The table was covered in assorted stacks of paper, printouts, legal pads, plastic tubs full of file folders and a couple of expensive-looking fountain pens. A doorway beyond the table led into a darkened hallway, the whitewashed walls and plush beige carpet disappearing into the murky black. To the right of the front door, a short set of carpeted stairs led up to an elevated living room, with TV and sound system facing out from the wall and a burgundy leather wraparound couch facing it from the opposite side. Trini pulled a beer out of the refrigerator and pulled out one of the chairs at the kitchen table, using a small stack of papers as a coaster. As she moved about her kitchen, she continued speaking, her soft voice filling the apartment like an expanding cloud.

"I thought maybe because I was so busy preparing for Malawi, running around in circles like a hamster on speed, maybe I was letting the stress get to me, maybe I was making mountains out of molehills, but after what happened today I just…" Trini let her hand fall to the table and looked up at Adam with a hopeless expression on her face. "I have no idea where to even start."

"I tend to find the beginning to be a good place," Adam said, pulling out the chair beside Trini and flipping it around, folding his arms on top of it as he lowered himself into the seat. Trini eyed him almost suspiciously and downed a long swig of her beer.

"God, that is so cliché."

"Doesn't mean it isn't true."

She groaned through another mouthful of beer and swallowed. "Fine." Setting her bottle back down on the table, Trini leaned forward and began moving things aside, carelessly tossing papers and folders over her shoulder and letting them scatter across the linoleum floor like confetti on New Year's Eve. Finally, she pulled a page out from the very bottom of a stack and scanned it briefly before grunting with satisfaction and passing it to Adam.

"About a year ago, I started getting these weird anonymous emails from this guy who claimed he worked for a secret government research lab located somewhere near Angel Grove. My official email address is public and anyone who lives around here could point me out of a crowd so I didn't think too much of it at first but then they just kept coming."

Adam glanced up from the paper and frowned. "Could it have been someone you worked with or a friend playing a joke on you?"

"That was what I thought at first," Trini said, nodding. "But then I got that." She pointed down at the paper Adam held in his hand. Adam looked back at the page and scanned its contents. After a moment, he noticed something that made the small hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He lowered the paper to the table and stared at Trini, blinking a few times before he finally found words.

"He makes direct references to alien technology."

"That he does," Trini agreed, downing another swallow. "I'm sure under normal circumstances I would find that even more evidence that this was a prank, but…"

"But what?"

Trini arched her eyebrows. "You know damn well _but what_, Frog Boy." Adam glared at Trini and she chuckled evilly in response. "I spent two years as a fucking superhero with magical alien powers, Adam. You spent almost four. When was the last time any of us lived under normal circumstances?"

Adam let his chin rest on his arms. "I sure can't help but feel normal every time I fill out a tax form."

Trini rolled her eyes. "Thank you, smartass."

"Anytime," Adam said with a smirk. He held the paper out to Trini and pointed at a line near the top. "Did you ever try and send a reply? I mean, the sender's email address is listed right here, seems like a pretty logical next step."

"Oh, sure it does," Trini grumbled, propping her head on her hand. "Although somewhere around the thirteenth email I got returned invalid I began to think differently."

Adam sighed. "OK…" he breathed, looking at Trini expectantly. The yellow-clad woman drained the bottle in front of her and then reached into one of the plastic tubs that sat on the table. When she sat back, she was holding a small stack of papers in her hand.

"This is where it kind of starts getting weird."

"OK, you and I have vastly different definitions of the word 'weird,'" Adam retorted, leaning back in the chair, his hands gripping the metal back. Trini ignored him and went on.

"The next email I got from this guy, he didn't say much," Trini said, peeling the first piece of paper off the stack. She handed it to Adam with a flourish. "He didn't have to." Adam read the message in less than five seconds and glanced back up at her, eyebrows raised. Trini nodded, scratching absentmindedly at a spot along the seam of her pants.

The message was simple, with no salutation or signature, just a single line of plain, 12-point text against a white background. It was only after the third time he read it that Adam began to realize what he was seeing; by the fifth, the words seemed to zoom toward and away from his face like a bad special effect in an old 3-D movie. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes, only to have the words light up along the backs of his eyelids.

_You don't get to talk, Miss Kwan. Your job is to listen. And if you don't do it, then everyone in Angel Grove is in some big fucking trouble._

"Damn," he whispered, tossing the page back down onto the table. "This guy didn't fuck around, did he?"

"Nope," Trini said softly, shaking her head. "And it gets better." She slid another stack of papers across the table. "Check out Act 2. After he found out I was trying to communicate back with him, he started mentioning things that directly applied to me – places I spent a lot of time, my home address, the names of my family members – and kept going on and on about how much danger we were all in, and I was starting to get a little freaked out because I could never figure out what the hell he meant. Then finally, after about two months since the first email, he mentioned the name…" Trini flipped through the stack of papers until she found the one she was looking for and pulled it out, scanning it for a moment before jabbing a finger at the page. "ERECA." She pronounced it like "Erica," and Adam furrowed his brows in confusion until she caught on and shook her head.

"It's not a person, it's an acronym," she said, laying the page on the table. "E-R-E-C-A."

Adam was silent for a moment before he responded. "He ever say what it stood for?"

"I don't think he meant to use the actual name at all," Trini said. "He never even acknowledged it again. For the next three months after that he kept talking about how I needed to launch an investigation into the Department of Defense; he told me to look for a large amount of money sent somewhere with a name that seemed too generic or vague, I believe his exact words were, um…" she tugged another page out of the pile and read aloud from it. "_If all else fails, just follow the money._"

Adam chuckled incredulously. "So clearly this guy didn't know a damn thing about what you actually do for a living."

Trini smiled. "Well I would've filled him in a little but my job was to listen, remember?" The two of them laughed a little and Trini tapped a finger against the side of her nose. Adam winked and adjusted his weight.

"Seriously, though," Trini finally said. "I don't think this guy really understood much of anything about politics or government workers or anything. He never used any of the technical terminology or anything; actually, come to think of it, he sounded more like a scientist than anything else. I think he just chose me to contact because I was close; like you said, he clearly didn't understand my job description."

"So a scientist-slash-aspiring-secret-agent working at an ultra-classified government research facility sent you four months' worth of anonymous emails and you never once thought, 'hmmm, this might be something of some importance, perhaps I ought to tell somebody?'"

"Adam, the guy was clearly either crazy or scared out of his mind," Trini started to protest.

"Tri, you just said crazy two different ways," Adam noted calmly.

"Bite me," she snapped. "What good would telling anyone about this have done? No one in their right mind would've believed him – well, no one who wasn't a former Ranger, anyway – hell, I'm not sure I believed him completely; but he wouldn't stop sending these to me. Then, seven months ago, I got one that said he was going to get someone he worked with to leave and come find me so I had some proof."

"And did this mystery refugee ever show up?"

"What do you think?" Trini asked bitterly, tossing the rest of the papers in her hand back onto the table. "After two weeks and no word I thought the dumbass had just given up and finally decided to leave me alone. But then I got another message, and this one..." Trini shuddered at the mere thought of it. "He said the person he'd sent had been…what was the word he used? _Neutralized_. He said this organization had squads of people, people controlled by these brain implants that basically turned them into RC cars with skin, who would be sent after anyone who tried to cut and run. He told me these squads always had a leader who was…_independent_…and that leader would be able to use the others in his squad like a weapon, point and shoot them wherever he wanted."

Adam scowled. "God, that's creepy."

"Tell me about it. I thought I was getting emails from the goddamn Twilight Zone," Trini replied. "Things kind of fell into a pattern after that. I'd get one message saying he was sending another refugee my way, and then a couple weeks later, another message saying they were dead. Then, just before I left for Malawi, I got a message saying he couldn't do it anymore, that he was coming to see me himself. I haven't heard from him since."

Adam blew out a breath. "Those squads you were talking about sound a lot like the guys who broke into Tommy's house today."

"I know," Trini said softly, her voice becoming somber. "I'm scared, Adam. What if this…ERECA place is after Jason, Kim and Tommy because they finally have the proof this guy was trying to send me all this time? What if they're in even more danger than they know?"

Adam thought for a moment, stroking his chin. "Billy said he was taking Jason in to wherever he works to help him out first thing in the morning, you could tell them as soon as they get back and –" Adam stopped suddenly and stared at Trini, his eyes widening. "Tri – what if this place Billy works _is_ this place that guy was talking about?"

Trini furrowed her brow in intense concentration. "I really hope I know Billy well enough to be able to say this, but he wouldn't do that, Adam. We have to trust that if he worked for a place like this and found out they were doing something like this he would tell us."

"What if they're threatening him into silence? They could be threatening to kill his family or something unless he does what they want."

"Wow, you haven't seen Billy for a while, have you?" Trini cocked her head slightly at Adam. "He doesn't intimidate easily, Adam. He just doesn't."

"OK, OK," Adam rose to his feet and started to move toward the door. "Thanks for telling me this, Trini. We'll tell the others tomorrow, together. Deal?"

"Deal. Night."

Adam turned to leave but froze with his hand on the doorknob and looked back at her.

"Wait a second. Did this guy ever give you a name or description of himself so you would know him when he came to you?"

"You know, as a matter of fact," Trini rummaged around on the table until she found the last email and skimmed it over again. "Yeah. He must've slipped or something; the last email has a sort of name on it."

Adam frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well it's not really a name, it seems more like a call sign or something," Trini said, not taking her eyes off the paper. "On the very last email he sent to me, he refers to himself as Delta 4."

Adam let his hand fall from the doorknob and stared into the floor, brow furrowed in deep thought. "Any idea what that means?"

Trini just shook her head. "Like everything else here, Adam, this is way outside my area of expertise."


	17. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: **Saban owns everything Power Rangers related. I only own the plot and things you don't recognize from TV.

**A/N:** Sorry about the wait. Updates should be coming more regularly from now on for this and my other story as well. Thanks for reading, reviewing, etc. Enjoy!

* * *

**In Transit  
****Somewhere Outside Angel Grove, CA  
****July 11, 2012  
****10:30 AM**

"_Face it, Jason: like it or not, this is your only chance."_

"OK, so remember, when we get there try not to ask too many questions, let me do the talking, and for the love of god don't touch anything." Billy motioned with one hand as he spoke, holding the steering wheel tightly at one o'clock with the other. He and Jason were driving down the long, painfully monotonous stretch of highway through the desert between Angel Grove and ERECA headquarters, the landscape outside changing so little it seemed at times like they were driving on a treadmill. Hearing no response to his admonition, Billy turned to Jason. "Jase, are you even lis-" he stopped and groaned, turning his eyes back to the road. "You know, that's not exactly the safest way to sit."

Jason cocked his head toward Billy and raised an eyebrow beneath his sunglasses. The former Red Ranger had reclined the passenger seat of Billy's car as far back as it would go and kicked his legs up onto the dashboard; his seatbelt dangled, forgotten, from the wall. "For Christ's sake, Bill," he grunted, running a hand over his face. "You've said that every five minutes for the last half hour. Who do you think I am, Rocky? And don't tell me how to sit in a car, you sound like my mother." Despite his words, Jason raised the seat, lowered his legs and reached for the seatbelt. As his hand found the strap, he hesitated and stared out the window into the distant, jagged hills that sliced into the deep blue of the sky as they passed like the edge of a serrated knife. Billy opened his mouth to retort but the words died on his tongue; he could tell from the look on Jason's face that he wouldn't respond to whatever he said. Finally Jason blinked, licked his lips, and tore his eyes from the window. As he clicked his seatbelt fastened, he glanced up at Billy.

"It's still out there, isn't it?"

Billy knew exactly what he meant. "Yeah. The ruins of the old Command Center have been basically left untouched since Divatox left." He turned to Jason. "I've been by to visit a couple of times." Jason whipped his head around and stared Billy right in the face. Even through the sunglasses, Billy could feel the incredulous stare. "I'm not the only one, either. Every time I've been there, someone's left flowers or something behind. Once I found a picture of our original team in a white gold frame propped up against a broken piece of rebar."

Jason whistled softly. "Wow. After Zordon I did everything short of actually promising _not_ to go back there. I never would've thought anyone from his time would've been able to take that feeling…I can only imagine what it must be like to see that place in pieces."

Billy paused for a long moment, digging through his brain for a proper comparison, before speaking. "Trini told me you guys went to Germany during the Peace Conference once and saw the trenches from World War 1." Jason grimaced and nodded.

"Yeah. I remember telling her it felt like I was standing in a place where present and past blurred together, where you could sense the number of corpses that had probably bled onto the ground you were standing on. The whole time we were there I had this weird tickle at the base of my neck; the hairs on my arms were standing up and the muscles in my thighs kept twitching, it was like something was triggering my fight-or-flight response even when there wasn't a threat."

Billy nodded. "Yeah, that about sums it up. I'd never really thought about it that way, but I guess your background provides a perspective from outside my range of experience."

"I'm gonna choose to take that as a compliment," Jason muttered.

"Good, you were supposed to," Billy replied. The car came over the top of a hill and the facility became visible in the distance, a sprawling metallic structure that twinkled in the blazing sunlight. The place was surrounded by a triple layer of fences and walls; Jason even thought he could make out sniper towers at every corner. His eyes widened in surprise.

"This is your scientific research facility? Looks a lot more like a military installation." Billy chuckled softly at the unspoken question in Jason's words.

"Before you go all Mulder on me, no, this isn't Area 51," he said cheerfully. When Jason didn't laugh, Billy's smile quickly faded.

"Billy," Jason said softly, his gaze locked on the approaching structure. "That background of mine you were talking about earlier is screaming at me in five different languages that this place is bad news, and we aren't even in the parking lot yet. What do you do here, anyway?"

"I already told you, Jason," Billy said insistently, putting his other hand on the steering wheel. "If we're going to do this you can't ask any questions."

Jason took his sunglasses off, folded them up and hung them from the collar of his T-shirt. "Stop the car."

Billy frowned. "What?"

"I said _stop the fucking car_, right now." Jason's voice was so low it was almost a growl; Billy felt a tingle run down his back between his shoulder blades.

"What happened to trusting me with your life?"

"What happened to you being the rational one?" Jason retorted. "Now pull over before I make you."

"Jason-" Billy started to protest further, but Jason shot him a deadly glare and the scientist sighed, let his foot off the gas and brought the car to a stop on the empty asphalt shoulder. "What do you want me to say?" He asked as he shifted into Park. "I already told you, if I say too much about what I do here I could lose my job."

"I'm becoming less and less sure this is a job you should want to keep," Jason countered. "They don't let you talk to your own friends about your work, they operate out of what looks like a military prison with triple fences and goddamn sniper towers, and worst of all, they're less than five miles from the old Command Center and you have ten tons of Aquitian technology stored inside. You're the genius; you tell me how that equates to a good situation."

"If it weren't for my _situation_," Billy said indignantly. "There would be no way for us to help you. Have you forgotten what I said last night? '_Psychotic killing machine, destroy everything you care for, torn apart from the inside out?_' Any of that ringing any bells? If not for my unique position, your circumstances would be hopelessly dire."

Jason blew a breath out through his nose. "We would've found a way," he said slowly. "We always have."

"And how long would that have taken?" Billy asked, adjusting his weight so he faced Jason more directly. "How much valuable time would we have wasted scrambling desperately to use our vastly inadequate resources to discover some infinitesimal hope of a solution to your problem? More pertinently, how far gone would you have been by the time we finally found something? Face it, Jason: like it or not, this is your only chance."

Jason made eye contact with Billy again and held it this time. "Which one of us are you trying to convince, man?" At Billy's bewildered look, he plowed ahead. "I've done enough interrogations to know when someone's getting overly defensive of something. You're torn about this, Billy, it's written all over your face; not to mention the fact that you haven't loosened your grip on the steering wheel since we started this conversation."

Billy's eyes went to his hands. His knuckles had turned the color of paper, and as he slowly tried to uncurl his fingers from the wheel, he felt several sharp, painful pops as his joints began to loosen. "Look, Jason; I don't like this any more than you do, but this is how it has to be. We don't have time to find an alternative and I won't risk the consequences of letting this thing run its course on you. If there's a way to help you, I'm obligated to take it."

"And I'm obligated as an investigator to be skeptical," Jason shot back. "If we do this, I'm gonna need more than just your promise that there's nothing shady going on here. I'm not going into this blind."

"OK, how about I let you talk to my boss and the techs that'll be operating the machines before we get started. You can ask them anything you want. How's that sound?"

Jason didn't answer right away. "It's a start," he grumbled quietly, propping his head on the windowsill with his elbow.

"All right then." Billy put the car back in drive and accelerated toward the facility again. He breathed an inward sigh of relief. _That was easier than I thought. I was worried there for a minute that he might actually make me sedate him ahead of schedule._ The former Blue Ranger's gaze was drawn momentarily to the glove compartment, where two syringes full of powerful tranquilizer had been hidden. _One way or another, though, Jase, I'm helping you fix this; whether you like it or not._

* * *

**ERECA Headquarters – Front Gate  
****Somewhere Outside Angel Grove, CA  
****July 11, 2012  
****11:15 AM**

Billy slowed the car to a halt a few hundred yards in front of the gate to the enormous compound. Squinting in the sunlight, Jason took a quick inventory of his surroundings. The place was massive, a twinkling stainless steel and chrome behemoth that rose up from the sand like a manmade volcano. The entrance they were approaching was the only passage through the triple-layered barrier that surrounded the facility; topped with barbed wire and punctuated at regular intervals by sniper towers, it was an imposing barricade against the outside world. Jason shook his head and chuckled humorlessly.

"Christ, all that's missing is a moat."

Billy didn't seem to be listening. He reached down between his legs and pulled a piece of black cloth out from under his seat. Turning to Jason, he unfolded the cloth and held it out to him. "Put this on."

Jason glanced from the cloth to Billy. He let out a disbelieving snort. "A blindfold? Are you fucking kidding me?"

Billy lowered the cloth into his lap and sighed. "Jason…"

Jason leveraged himself toward Billy and jammed a finger into his face. "Don't try to talk your way out of this, Billy," he practically shouted, his eyes shining with anger. "Did you listen to a word I said? I told you there was no way in hell I was going into this blind, and now you're asking me to do literally the _exact_ opposite. Do you honestly expect me to go along with this?"

Surprisingly, Billy shrugged dejectedly and immediately backed off. "Yeah, OK. Worth a try, I guess." He tossed the cloth to Jason and started searching around his pockets. "Damn it. My ID card's in the box on the backseat. Can you get it for me? I can't reach it from here."

Jason eyed Billy warily. "Sure." He took the blindfold from Billy, turned, tossed it onto the seat and reached for the plastic toolbox that sat behind the driver's seat.

Billy moved so fast that even if Jason had seen what was coming he wouldn't have had time to react. Lunging across the center console, the former Blue Ranger's fingers found the glove compartment latch, and for a few terrifying nanoseconds fumbled with it, scrabbled for a purchase. But then they found home, the door fell open, and Billy yanked out one of the syringes of sedative, sending papers and receipts flying as he brought it toward himself, ripped the cap off, spun it in his hand and drove it into Jason's right arm. The former Red Ranger grunted in surprise and slumped forward almost instantly, crumpling onto the console, his outstretched arms landing in Billy's lap as his seatbelt pulled him back into the front.

"Sorry, Jase," Billy murmured softly, retrieving the blindfold and affixing it to his companion's face. "This is the only way." He put the car back in gear and drove the remaining few yards to the front gate, slowing to a stop where the motorized gate blocked his way. As the guard exited the nearby booth and made his way around to the driver's side window, he heaved Jason's limp form upright in the seat beside him and pulled his ID from his shirt pocket.

The guard withdrew a baton as he approached and tapped gently on the window with it. "Sir," he called out. "Roll 'er down, please."

Billy rolled down the window and thrust his ID into the guard's hand. Before the man even had a chance to look at it, Billy stuck his head out through the open space. "Billings, it's me, open the damn gate."

The guard was unfazed. "Sorry, Mr. Cranston. Just following protocol." He returned the ID badge and leaned forward to see into the car. "Who's your friend?"

"He's with me," Billy said with all the authority he could muster. He started putting his ID back in his pocket and kept talking as he did so, keeping his tone even yet forceful. "Get in touch with Medical, tell them I need a gurney and an IV with a saline drip and have them prepare an MRI machine for us. I need you to tell R&D to prep the neural scanners, tell them I'm reappropriating some of the materials from the Manchurian Project. If anybody gives you any shit, get Blaylock on the phone and have him call me. As soon as my friend here is taken care of, I'll be in my office. You got all that?"

Billings frowned and straightened. "Mr. Cranston-"

"_Doctor_, god damn it!" Billy snapped, digging his fingers into his eyes. "_Doctor_."

Billings closed his eyes and sighed exasperatedly. "Sorry, _Dr._ Cranston, this is highly unusual, you're not supposed to be here today, there was no advance notice of this…"

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Billy groaned. He opened the door and swung his feet out onto the ground as though he was about to stand up. "If you don't get this gate open and start calling people in the next ten seconds I will personally see to it that the only guard duty you get is the kid's table at the next company Christmas party. Now get back in there and press the fucking button!"

Billings hesitated for a moment, staring Billy down, searching his face for his intentions; finally, grumbling under his breath, the soldier returned to the booth and flipped the switch to open the gate. Billy put his feet back into the car and closed the door. As he drove into the compound proper, he glanced into the rearview mirror and saw Billings pick up the phone on the counter in front of him.

Suddenly, there was a blast of music from the seat beside him; Kurt Cobain's voice pierced the air so abruptly that Billy had to stop himself from swerving to the left. He glanced over at Jason's unconscious form and saw the cell phone poking out of the front pocket of his jeans. The screen was lit up, and over the top of the pocket Billy thought he could read the name "Adam."

"What the hell are they calling him for?" Billy muttered under his breath. The car was approaching an overhang beneath which several drive-up entrances lined the shaded concrete wall. Billy slowed and pulled to one side of the road, outside a brightly lit, open tunnel marked by a sign reading "Medical Bay." He killed the engine, jumped out and ran around to the other side. By the time he'd opened the passenger door and unbuckled Jason's seatbelt, he could hear the clacking of the gurney wheels on the tile floor of the hallway. Billy tugged the cell phone out of Jason's pocket, turned it off and stuffed it in the glove compartment, taking the other syringe while he was in there.

While the medical technicians loaded Jason onto a gurney and strapped a mask over his face, Billy took a moment to catch his breath. The air that day was warm but fresh, a slight breeze from the north helping to keep the temperature down. Billy closed his eyes and let the moving air soothe the heat of his anxiety, the gentle fingers of wind whisking beads of nervous sweat off his neck and the exposed skin of his arms. The only thing visible from the facility in any direction was desert and more desert, stretching endlessly away to the rough peaks beyond; Billy scanned the horizon as far as he could, gazing out at the sand-covered monotony. As the ERECA doctors wheeled the stretcher back into the compound, Billy let his eyes settle on the unmistakable divot in the mountains beyond which he knew the remains of the Command Center lay. He lowered his head and sighed.

"Zordon, wherever you are, I hope you understand," he whispered, letting the wind carry his words away. As he followed Jason and the medics into the facility proper, the young genius imagined them floating back over the mountains, to the place just beyond the peaks where so much of who he was had been realized. He liked to think that somewhere, in some distant dimension, his mentor knew he was doing the right thing.

* * *

**Campbell/DeSantos Residence  
****Angel Grove, CA  
****July 11, 2012  
****11:10 AM**

"Damn it." Adam thrust his phone away from his face and glared angrily at the screen. "Jason's not answering and Billy's phone is turned off. Why the hell didn't they tell us when they were leaving?"

"Probably because they were afraid you'd try and stop them," Aisha said pointedly. She, Adam, Rocky, Trini and Kim had been sitting in her and Rocky's living room for the last few hours after Adam and Trini had been unable to get in touch with Jason or Billy. Tommy had gone in early to finish some paperwork and Kat, Zack and Tanya would be at the studio for the rest of the day. Trini snorted and rose to her feet, moving across the open space toward the kitchen as she spoke.

"They would've been right," she said, her voice oozing exasperation. "I told them, I fucking _told them_ this was a bad idea as soon as they brought it up last night and then what do they do? They ignore me and just do whatever the hell they want."

"Welcome to my life," Kim grumbled from the ottoman. "I can count on one hand the number of times I've been able to actually change Jason's mind about anything."

"Wait a minute," Rocky interjected, leaning forward. He held up a finger and glanced inquisitively at Kim. "He didn't wake you up when he left? Kiss you goodbye, ask you to wish him luck, promise he'd be careful, anything?"

"For the umpteenth god damn time, Rocky, no," Kim replied. "We went to bed almost as soon as we got home from Tommy and Kat's place last night and when I woke up at 9 AM he was gone. No note, no kiss goodbye, I didn't even smell coffee in the kitchen. He could've left the house at four in the morning for all I know."

"Son of a bitch," Adam growled with a frustrated sigh. He tossed his phone onto the table in front of him and let it clatter to rest. He lifted his head and looked over at Trini, who stood leaning on a counter near where the carpeted floor gave way to smooth grey tile. "I knew we should've called them last night, the second we thought there might be something wrong."

"Well you picked a hell of a time to speak up about it," Trini retorted, pushing herself off the counter. Adam glared at her.

"This coming from the woman who waited over a year and ignored an entire novel's worth of pants-shittingly creepy emails before finally deciding it was something worth telling her friends about."

Kim, Rocky and Aisha glanced up in bewilderment at this. Aisha was the first of them to find her voice. "Um…did we miss something?"

"Yeah," Rocky said, nodding. "I thought you guys were just worried because you couldn't get a hold of Jason and Billy." He looked from Adam's face to Trini's, searching them for answers. "There's more to it than that, isn't there? God, you get one good night's sleep and suddenly all the important shit goes down without you."

Kim's eyes widened as something seemed to dawn on her. "Wait a minute. Trini, is this what you were freaking out about last night? Is this why you left so suddenly?"

Trini glared at Adam, who just shrugged and rested his face on his arm. "Well, we might as well tell them now. Not like we could make things worse."

The Asian woman sighed and rubbed her eyes. "OK, fine. Over the last year or so, I've been getting these really weird messages from some guy claiming to be a government scientist telling me that I have to investigate this group called ERECA or else Angel Grove and potentially the entire planet are in big trouble. After something Billy said last night I got a hunch that they might be about this place where he does his super-secret job. I told Adam about it and we were hoping to catch Jason before he left this morning but obviously that hasn't worked out."

Kim let out a bitter, astonished chuckle. "Well let me just say your timing on that little gem was absolutely dead on." After a tense moment of silence the former Pink Ranger sighed and stood up. "You don't happen to have these messages on you, do you?"

Trini frowned. "Why?"

Kim cocked her head to one side. "Because no offense, Tri, but unless the UN suddenly grew a criminal justice division when nobody was looking, I'm the only one here who's actually qualified to do anything about these emails. Let's have 'em."

"They're at my place," Trini said. "We can go get them if you want."

"One thing first," Rocky piped up. "I know I'm not the _qualified investigator_ in the room," he said, looking pointedly at Kim. "But I'm wondering about something. What was it Billy said that makes you think he could work for these people and not even know about it?"

"Something about how the squad that attacked Tommy's house operated," Trini answered. "I'll remember more clearly when I actually have them to look at. Someone want to give me a ride back to my place?"

"I will," Aisha said, raising her hand. Trini smiled.

"Thank you."

"Speaking of which," Adam said suddenly, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "There's another aspect of this we could be looking into." He stood and shoved his phone back into his pocket. "Any of you guys have an extra key to Billy's apartment?"


End file.
